


Astronautical

by OfMonstersAndMe



Series: Astronautical [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Black Order - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Contest of Champions, Enemies to Friends, Frenemies, Gen, Halfworld, How do I format, I'm Sorry, Knowhere (Marvel), Mentions of Character Death, More tags and relationships added as I go, Nebula's going to strangle him, Sakaar (Marvel), Slow Burn, Some character death later on, cannon typical relationships, first fic, help me, lots of friendships, worst case scenarios - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-02-11 21:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 116,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12944202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfMonstersAndMe/pseuds/OfMonstersAndMe
Summary: "Time is a funny thing. From the perspective of most mortals it was an inescapable part of reality; Imperceptible, uncontrollable, marching on endlessly. Trying to hold back time was much like dipping your hand into a river in hope of halting the flow. No. Stopping time was the pipedream of madmen. It could be diverted, though."When Thanos finds himself losing ground in his war he steps outside of the timestream and rewrites himself a better universe. Somehow Peter seems to be the only one who recognizes the wrongness and he's determined to find his friends and set it right again, all while dodging bounties on his head and trying to avoid being strangled by Nebula, the closest thing he has to an ally right now.





	1. Greener on the Other Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for stopping to read this fic! I have been an avid reader my whole life and written plenty of essays and research papers, and even a few role plays, but this is the first story I've ever written down so any and all feedback is appreciated. I got the idea after finding out that Thanos supposedly has the ability to step outside of the timestream and change things/create new timelines. I'll be the first to admit that I am not a hardcore fan, most of this is based off of the movies and bits and pieces that I liked from parts of the cartoons and comics, so I apologize if it's not strictly following one universe. I try, but this is a casual hobby for me.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or settings, it all belongs to Marvel. I am just borrowing them for a bit.

**Book 1: Astronautical**

.

**.:Prologue:.**

_Something in his knuckle popped and shifted as he dragged himself forward. Yup. It was definitely broken again. A haze of dust and smoke, and a few things that were much less pleasant to think about stung his eyes and burned his already aching lungs. The crazed thought filled his head that he would somehow drown in it out here in the open air. A giggle bubbled in his throat at the irony but he swallowed it down. No. It was just the concussion. Ignore it. Focus._

_What was he doing again? Oh yes. Through the film of smog and tears he could just make out his destination; a small form just ahead of him crumpled up like a discarded child's toy, grey fur tinted red in the harsh glare of this unforgiving lighting._

_His other hand reached out and he dragged himself another foot closer. At least, he hoped it was the lighting that was flooding his vision so red._

_Nails dug into the dirt as he heaved away another piece of the distance between himself and his target. Almost there. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the battle raging on without him. Screams, crashes, explosions; all so far away, swirling in and out of focus like the smog. Gamora was somewhere out there. The flash of her sword and the ice in her eyes somehow the only thing his mind could see clearly. She had vanished in a swell of soldiers with Nebula close in pursuit and he hadn't seen her since. She was alive. He had to believe that. The most fearsome woman in the galaxy couldn't fall here._

_Closer. Closer. He realized the horrid rattling he was hearing was not the sound of a failing ship as he had thought, but his own ragged breathing grating in his ears. That could not be a good thing. He'd lost track of Drax almost as soon as the fight had started. A battle cry the only warning he had given before diving headfirst and weapons drawn into the fray. It was an act so stupid, so reckless, so brave and just so… Drax, that Peter could hardly find it in himself to be mad even as he cursed the impulsive fool. He could really use him right now._

_Four feet had never looked so impossible, not in any of his wildest benders or worst bar fights – and oh, there had been plenty of both. He'd give his right arm to wake up on the floor of some unknown tavern- all of this just a horrible dream brought on by too much of a strange liquid Yondu had warned him against -which, of course, would have only made him down that much more-. But Yondu had left to fetch help, And help had never arrived. And now Peter crawled through the dirt and debris, trying not to focus on how the world tilted and swayed even under his prone form._

_The twig in his jacket pocket dug into his bruised side as he slid across the dirt. Groot's parting gift. The thought was almost enough to give him pause as he worried over the fate of the companion he had left behind in the dusty fog. He couldn't focus on that now. He would be okay. Like Gamora, Groot was tough. And while he might be naive at times, he wasn't stupid._

_Either the smoke was getting thicker or his vision was failing him as the light distorted further, spots were dancing at the edges and patches were mysteriously missing. It didn't matter. He was almost there. One thought playing over and over- like his tape player playing on repeat in the background- as all the other thoughts drifted in and out at their own accord. He would not let Rocket die wearing that god damned muzzle._

_His annoying, infuriating, impossible best friend would not die like an animal. Caged and chained. Like the experiment 89P13 that he had always so feared becoming._

_Panting and gasping, he reached out, stretching desperately across the distance, his fingers brushing against the smooth metal that covered his friend's face. Was Rocket even still breathing? He couldn't stop to check, his arm already trembling and going numb from the strain. With haphazard fingers, he searched blindly for the strap. Why couldn't he see? Had he closed his eyes without realizing it? He should open them but he was just so tired. Unconsciousness was calling in the sweetest siren song he had ever heard._

_There! His fingers brushed across a thin strip of the same metal. That had to be it. A surge of hope gave him the adrenaline he needed to drag himself another inch forward and search down the strap for the clasp. His concussion must be worse than he feared because he couldn't find it._

_More tears gathered in his eyes, not entirely due to the smoke and pain as he desperately grabbed at where a clasp should be, only to lose it entirely in fur. No. Nonono! He was so… so close… blood rushed in his ears, deafening, as light pierced through the veil of blackness. Was this it? He was dying, and he couldn't even do this one last goddamned thing._

_The darkness swallowed him up and he knew no more._

.

**Chapter 1: Greener on the Other Side**

Time has always been a funny thing. From the perspective of most mortals it was an inescapable part of reality; Imperceptible, uncontrollable, marching on endlessly. Trying to hold back time was much like dipping your hand into a river in hope of halting the flow. No. Stopping time was the pipedream of madmen.

It could be diverted, though. One could pull themselves from the river entirely, climb onto its bank and dig their own channel, suited to their own liking, and guide it to the destination of their choosing. And that is just what Thanos was doing now. He was building himself a new reality, another chance. Too much had gone wrong in this reality. The orb had been lost, by none other than his own general turned traitor. His daughters had both been disappointments in turn. Too many battles had been lost and too many foes grown bold. But he could fix this.

Here in Limbo, in a realm outside of time, he strode in no particular hurry along the timestream, looking for the moment that would best suit his means. There would be work to do along the way. Players to rearrange and redraw. It would all work out in the end. Of this he was certain. The orb would be his again, and then the rest of the Infinity stones, and everything would be in place.

Ah, here. This would do.

The titan dipped his hand into the stream, and began digging.

It happened one trickle after another and it happened all at once. Without the passage of true time, perspective here was skewed. Digging the trench and dragging the timeline onto another course took an eternity while he was digging, and yet, not even the blink of an eye had passed when he stood to admire his work. Time screamed as it was ripped and torn apart. The many threads came undone and rewound into the new stream, the better stream. A smile split the Titan's face.

All would be as it was meant to be.

-x-

"… _when the grass got a little greener on the other side_

_I'd just tear out that page_

_But then I fooled around and fell in love_ …"

With a strangled gasp Peter shot out of his bed. Dirty laundry and trash was sent flying around his room as he flailed and hopped about, the blanket clinging stubbornly to his legs. His arms pin wheeled, grasping for anything to keep him upright, but only succeeded in catching a small shelf and taking it down with him, sending the items crashing down on top of him as he landed with a heavy thump. In the stillness that followed, Peter could hear the jubilant voice of Elvis Bishop as "Fooled Around and Fell in Love" played from the headset still wrapped stubbornly around his neck. Well, that was good. At least nothing important was broken.

Slowly, Peter uncurled, groaning out a string of curses as he checked his limbs and probed carefully at the back of his head where the corner of something particularly heavy had struck. No blood, but he would have one heck of a goose egg for a while.

Satisfied that he was relatively alright, and honestly he had woken up in much worse states after a night of a little too much fun, he rolled over and began carefully peeling the blanket from his legs. As he worked, he tried to think back to the dream he had been having, but all he could recall were glimpses of a blinding light and a lingering sense of urgency and wrongness that clung to him like a layer of sweat. It was somewhat akin to suddenly remembering that you had left the oven on only after you were lightyears away with no way to fix it, but worse. So much worse.

Trying to calm his hammering heart, Peter stood and stretched dramatically before switching off his Walkman and placing it neatly on his now empty bed. In the resulting silence he was met with only the calm steady thrum of the Milano's engines. Still the sense of wrongness would not leave him.

Perhaps a shower would help. That was usually a great way to reset himself after a particularly nasty nightmare and this was no different, even if he couldn't remember enough details to say whether or not it was, in fact, a particularly nasty nightmare.

Opening the door to the rest of the ship, however, only left the alarms in his head screaming louder than ever that this was WRONG WRONG WRONG.

The Milano looked exactly as he had last seen it. That is. It looked EXACTLY as he had last seen it just before it was destroyed on Xandar, rebuilt as a gift for saving the galaxy, nearly destroyed again on Berhert, and then again painstakingly rebuilt from the rubble. Suddenly the undercurrent of surrealism on his bedroom floor made sense. He hadn't noticed at first, perhaps because of the years that it had spent in that state, or perhaps because he was not known for being a particularly observant person when first awakening, but it was his old room, from before the first crash had mangled it -Burned up so much of his already sparse belongings that all of Dey's efforts couldn't truly replicate it down to every haphazard detail.

For a long time he stood in his doorway and tried to process what was going on. He was still dreaming right? That must be it. Whatever he drank last night had one hellova kick.

But it felt so real.

And the details were so perfect, right down to that same old soft rattle in the Milano's engine- that he was totally going to get looked at before it exploded!- which was never present in the remade Milano.

So not a dream, then. A hallucination? Maybe, but why would a hallucination be so… mundane? A trick of the mind? It wouldn't be the first time he'd pissed off a psychic, but this was hardly the kind of punishment he had become so very unpleasantly accustom to.

Well, staring at the empty core of the ship wasn't providing him with any clues. If he wanted answers he'd have to find them, and that's just what he intended to do. A quick scope of the ship's compartments only confirmed his initial theory that this was somehow a version of his ship from before the other Guardians had come into his life. No extra lofts or beds, no sunlamps for Groot's pot, no bombs rolling dangerously around the floor, threatening to blow them all up at any moment, no tools for sharpening weapons, or strange heady aromas of Drax's attempts at cooking, though sometimes one had to use that term very loosely.

"Okay guys," he called out to no one in particular. "This isn't funny, come on out."

Silence, save for the distant _k-thunk k-thunk_ of the old Milano's engine.

"HAHA! You got me! You really pulled one over on old Starlord there! Now why don't you show yourself so we can all laugh about this together?"

Still nothing.

"Come on Gamora," he appealed with what was definitely not a crack in his voice "You're better than this. Don't stoop to their level."

_K-thunk… k-thunk… k-thunk…_

Disturbed, Peter made his way up to the cockpit and slid into the pilot's chair. Through the windshield only empty space greeted him. So he wasn't docked on a planet. Peter wasn't sure if this made things simpler or not. A quick check of his navigation system didn't help much either. He was drifting through a star system that was familiar enough to him. He had passed through here plenty of times delivering liberated goods, looking for jobs, and even just stopping by one of its many rest locations for a little break. The problem was… he couldn't recall how or why he would have come here now.

Turning away from the navigational readings he pulled up a new screen and sent a hail to the Eclector. Since the repairs had been finished on his beloved ship, again, the Guardians had unanimously moved back into it. The old Ravager's ship had its larger size, but the Milano was home. Emphasis on 'was' right now- what the heck was going on here!?

Peter didn't have long to puzzle over this before a series of beeps alerted him that his call had been accepted and all thought vanished from his head.

A long silence reined over the Milano as Peter stared, slack jawed and wide eyed at the screen before him. A cold indignant rage boiled up from somewhere deep within his gut. Oh this was too much. He could take a good prank as much as the next guy but there were LINES. And those lines hadn't just been crossed, they'd been trampled and spat on and…. The arm rest creaked under his white knuckled grip.

"Lookee here boyo." The dead man leaned into the camera, every perfect detail becoming even clearer. "If you just called me as another one of yer damn pranks I'll have you thrown out of the airlock of that damned ship of yours!"

"I-I, uh..." Peter swallowed thickly, struggling to find a single coherent thought.

"Speak up boy! You get your dumbass paralyzed again? I told yah to stop-"

"You're alive." Just a whisper, and suddenly the damn broke and the words were spilling out in a desperate jumble. "How are you alive!? I saw you-you-In my arms and I-Your funeral! How are you not dead? Don't get me wrong, I am so happy! But. But HOW?!"

Peter slowed to a stop, panting, and wide eyed, and grinning like a fool. Yondu, however, seemed less than impressed by his ramblings. In fact, this cold expression looked startlingly similar to the look he'd worn whenever he'd lost patience with what he referred to as Peter's tall tales and 'exaggerations.'

"Boy," he deadpanned. "I don't know what your playing at here, but you better quit wasting my time with this nonsense."

As Yondu reached for a switch to end their communication Peter panicked and leaped forward. "WAIT! Wait! I swear I'm not messing with you! Just ask the other guardians! Where are they, by the way?" He'd almost forgotten after seeing the dead man's face, but his friends were all still missing.

"The who now?" The ravager captain still looked nonplussed, but his finger was no longer hovering over the disconnect button so that had to be a good sign.

"You know, the Guardians of the Galaxy? My friends? We only, you know, saved the galaxy twice now."

Any trace of patience was lost in the captain's scowl now and Peter rushed to stop him from leaving before he got any answers at all. "Come on man," he pleaded "You have to stop messing with me. Did Rocket put you up to this? The Guardians. You know – Drax, big, scary, walking thesaurus. Groot, galaxies most personable houseplant. Rocket, biggest asshole you've ever met, and Gamora, most feared woman in the galaxy! We stole the Infinity Stone, kicked Ronan's ass and saved all of Xandar. Does any of this ring a bell?"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Peter's jaw snapped closed so fast there was an audible click. Yondu's expression had morphed into something dark and serious. "Whatever game you're playing at here I think it's best that you stop right here and now. And watch your damned tongue. Those kinds of jokes are liable to get you into all kinds of trouble in these quadrants, and I don't want you dragging me into it, ya hear?"

"But I-" Peter stammered, thoroughly confused again.

"I said no more. Now you best knock these silly games off and let me get back to work." With that yondu pressed down on the button and the screen winked out of existence, leaving Peter once more staring blankly into the empty space beyond his windshield.

Somehow, he was even more confused now than he had been before he'd made the call. What was going on? Yondu was somehow here, but his crew was missing. And what the flark did he mean 'in these quadrants'? Sure it wasn't exactly a hubble of law and order, but this was hardly what a ravager would consider a dangerous area. And anyways, what did it even matter? Ronan was DEAD.

Peter groaned and rubbed at his temples. This was all just giving him a gigantic headache and he was no closer to figuring out what was going on.

For a while he just sat there letting his ship drift through space on autopilot as he mulled over his options. He didn't dare risk hailing the Eclector again. One of the very first lessons he had learned after leaving Earth was to never bother the Ravager captain once he was in that state. Not unless he wanted to spend the next month scrubbing every toilet on the ship between some very one sided battle lessons. Just the memory left him wincing and wanting to rub at imaginary bruises.

Eventually his stomach made its own priorities known and he settled for heading to the nearest establishment which offered a hot meal and the chance to pick up on some local gossip. If his friends had been through here, he was sure somebody would be talking about it- after all, where they weren't known for their heroic deeds or mercenary work, there were still a couple smaller bounties on several of their heads. This was usually enough to catch somebody's interest.

-x-

The establishment he chose was loud, dark, and just a touch chaotic; exactly what he was hoping for. He slid into a booth near one of the busier corners of the bar and made his order with an easy grin and a wink that sent the pink hued waitress blushing and giggling back to the counter. Oh yeah. This would do just fine.

As he waited for his food and feigned interest in a little mini menu displaying today's specials he listened to the chatter around him.

For a long time he caught nothing much of interest; old friends catching up on family stuff, arguments over some upcoming game or tournament or whatever, some old guy complaining about new taxes on his wares, yadda yadda.

The food came, with a flourish and a 'here you are, sugar,' and for a time he was happy enough to just eat and relax into the familiar chatter surrounding him.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, hun?" The clatter of his dishes being gathered eventually brought his mind back to his own booth. His food had been finished and whatever they were passing off as coffee had been drunk, but he hadn't overheard a single useful thing.

"Oh uh, yes... Lenna," he drawled, leaning forward to read her name tag. "I was hoping you might be able to help me find my friends, they seem to have gotten lost."

"Well that's just too bad." She had an answering gleam in her silvery eyes. "I'm sure if you stick around they'll show up. Seems like everyone comes through here nowadays."

"I'm actually hoping they might have come through already. They're hard to miss. Big tattooed mountain of a man, hot green lady who looks like she could kill you seven times before you hit the floor- and she could, trust me!-, trigger happy raccoon, and a very friendly tree. And ah, oh yeah, you may know them as the Guardians of the Galaxy." He finished with a wink and a finger gun.

"I'm sorry, the what?" The look on Lenna's face was not the one of awe that he had been hoping to inspire.

"You know, the _Guardians of the Galaxy_." Peter leaned closer earnestly. "We battled Ronan the Accuser and saved the galaxy."

"Wh-what?" she gasped, pulling back and eyes darting around as though he'd just told her he planned on robbing the place.

"Ronan," he repeated. "Angry guy with a flare for too much eyeliner. All like 'I am your judgment day' yadda yadda. Carries around this giant hammer like he's compensating for something. And oh yeah, dead. Got blown up by me and my friends?"

"That's not funny!" she hissed, snatching the rest of his dishes up now. "You shouldn't talk like that, you're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble." With one final glance around herself she turned and swept away with a flick of her short skirt.

Peter groaned and leaned back in his seat. So much for getting answers out of her. And they had such a good thing going and everything. His pouting was disrupted by the realization that something had shifted in the atmosphere. It was a subtle shift, but years of frequenting some of the worst corners of the galaxies with even worse populations had left him with a kind of sixth sense for these kinds of things. Right now that sixth sense was screaming at him to make a quick and quiet exit while he still could.

Without looking up he slipped the units onto the table and slipped out of the booth, walking with forced casualty towards the exit. He could feel eyes on him as he went, but no one seemed to follow him out of the bar and he made it back to his ship without incident. A gusty sigh left him as he slumped back into the pilot's seat. Well that was... disturbing. And if he didn't get some answers soon he was probably going to start pulling his hair out.

Without bothering to straighten out of his slump he pulled up a screen and typed in a search for "Guardians of the Galaxy." Nothing. Nada. Just a big empty screen with 'No results found' glowing in the center.

He tried again. "Star-lord." Just the usual pile of bounties, although it looked like they had gone up a bit, he noticed with a tinge of pride.

A search for "Gamora" was met with a big red [CLASSIFIED].

This was hopeless. It was almost like... Like the Guardians had never existed. Like they had never had their standoff on Xandar, never traveled across the cosmos and formed into a tight-knit family; like they had never met at all.

A cold and heavy dread settled over him as he considered this possibility. How was this possible? Who could possibly have the power to do this? And why? And if the Guardians had never met, what had become of Xandar?

With renewed energy and a destination in mind, at least for now, Peter quickly departed the not so helpful outpost and sped towards Xandar's co-ordinants.

-x-

"Oh no."

Where the Nova Prime capitol should have been, he was met with only the blackened and burned up husk of a planet.

Peter checked his coordinates for what must have been the hundredth time, but the screen remained unchanged. This was the correct place.

Without the Guardians to protect it, Ronan must have made it to the ground. After that it was only a matter of touching the infinity stone to the planet's surface and it was all over.

The Milano pulled closer, details along the scarred surface becoming a little clearer as he circled the planet. He was pretty sure he could make out places where the land dipped drastically lower. Even the oceans had been burned away.

Bile rose in his throat as he thought about all the Xandarians he had met after the battle. The tentative friends he'd made with some of the Nova Corps, Commander Dey and Nova Prime, and the smiling faces of the civilians that had come out to cheer the Guardian's and show their appreciation for all the lives they had saved. Except now they were gone. Bodies probably scattered among the blackened ashes down below.

Peter let the Milano drift silently among the stars for a long time. They looked so much colder now that he was the only one watching them.

What was he supposed to do now? He was too late.

As he pondered his next move, an alarm signaled the hailing of another craft. What now?

"You are unauthorized to enter this zone," the voice snarled across the communication line. The cockpit darkened slightly as an unmistakably Kree craft loomed over his ship and blocked out the stars. "State your business and prepare to be destroyed."

"I'm just passing through, no trouble here!" Peter replied quickly. "And um, wait, don't you mean 'or'?"

"Identify yourself."

Peter gripped the weapons' controls and sized up his options. It would be okay. There was just one puny little Kree ship. He was an excellent pilot and could definitely take them on in a one on one fight. "Peter." His fingers moved to the triggers as he took aim at the Kree ship's weak points. "But you may better know me as Star-lord."

There was a pause as Peter gave them a moment to let the name sink in and then he pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

"What?" He squeezed the trigger again, jiggling the joystick a bit when it produced no results. Seriously, could just one thing not go terribly wrong today?

"IDENTIFIED: Star-Lord." Came a booming mechanical voice. At the same time the empty space behind the Kree fighter craft vanished, replaced by the hulking form a much much larger vessel that was all to familiar. This new ship was also clearly Kree built, and it had an active tractor beam pointed squarely at the Milano.

Well, shit.

End

**Chapter 2 Teaser:** "... _...A twitch, the guards suddenly stiffened and Peter felt a spark of triumph. That spark was quickly crushed beneath the sound of approaching footsteps. Oh. The footsteps stopped just outside of the bars, and Peter found himself staring at a pair of very familiar boots that were very uncomfortably close to his face. Oh. Hesitantly, he brought his eyes up to look into the black depths of one of the last people he was hoping to see about now..._..." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! You've made it this far so that's a good thing, right? I would greatly appreciate any feedback you have. I am also currently looking for beta readers. I would love to have someone(s) to check out my future chapters for grammar, spelling, flow, and any plot holes I may be overlooking. And to help make sure I am staying as true to the characters as I can. I am currently writing everything on WordPad so while I go back and triple check everything, I might miss some little errors or minor spelling mistakes. I am hoping to get OpenOffice or Word downloaded soon so I can have my spellcheck and grammar notes back. I'd also love someone to bounce ideas off of for future chapters, character developments, and plot twists. I have the next chapter and most of the third already written, but am not planning to post them right away.
> 
> I am intending for this to be a very large project, so the writing and characters will hopefully improve greatly as I get feedback and develop my own voice and confidence. However it turns out, I've been having a blast writing it and hope you will enjoy reading it.


	2. Come with Me and Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bound and helpless on Ronan's ship, Peter finds help in one of the least likely of places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Chapter 2. I'll be honest, openings are my weakest and least favorite things. I am not exactly happy with this chapter, there were several plot points I had to rework, the flow isn't that great, and Nebula is a hard character for me to write, but I was getting nowhere just dwelling over it, so I decided to go with what I had and just move on for now. Maybe later on I'll come back and edit it into something I can be a little more proud of, but if I want to get anywhere in this story I need to keep moving on!

**Chapter 2: Come With Me and Escape**

_Honestly, Ronan's betrayal had been more of an annoyance than an actual concern for the Titan when it had first occurred. It would later prove to be a pivotal moment in the down slide of his march to control all that there was to posses in the known galaxies. It wasn't the source, no, but it was a convenient moment that Thanos found himself often looking to when laying the blame. If he was a more emotional being he may have simply killed the Kree warlord in this version of his universe, but he found it was beneath him to fear a mortal. Ronan was still worth just a bit more to him alive than dead. He simply needed to hold the reins a bit tighter this time around._

__-x-_ _

Peter lay on the floor of some sort of prisoner's cell on the large Kree ship. A pair of rather grumpy and well-armed guards stood sentry just outside of the bars. His hands had been bound and his blasters confiscated, and the cold hard flooring was doing his headache no favors.

"So, uh. Nice digs you got here," he tried for the fifth time to get any sort of response from them. "Whatever happened to the whole being destroyed thing? Not that I'm complaining here! I love being not-destroyed, and am more than happy to stay that way, but I'm just a bit confused."

Not even a dirty look. Tough crowd.

"Let's try something else. Does anyone want to tell me what happened here? At Xandar I mean. Were you two here when it, uh..."

A twitch, the guards suddenly stiffened and Peter felt a spark of triumph.

That spark was quickly crushed beneath the sound of approaching footsteps. Oh.

The footsteps stopped just outside of the bars, and Peter found himself staring at a pair of very familiar boots that were very uncomfortably close to his face. Oh.

Hesitantly, he brought his eyes up to look into the black depths of one of the last people he was hoping to see about now. "Hey Nebula."

The cyborg answered with a familiar sneer. "Dismissed!" she snapped at the guards without breaking eye contact. He assumed. It was hard to tell sometimes when she didn't have any pupils to focus on.

Armor rattled as the guards saluted and withdrew obediently.

"So," he started cautiously, struggling into a sitting position against the wall. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"Star-lord?" she hissed back, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know my name?"

Oops. A shrug, or his best attempt at one from his position as he scrambled for a reply that wouldn't end with those shoes getting acquainted with his face. "You know... Deadly assassin with blue skin and a red temper. Word gets around."

Nebula looked unconvinced, but for whatever reason seemed willing to set this issue aside for now. "Who are you?"

"I'm Star-lord, man. Legendary outlaw? Come on, you're the ones who captured  _ _me__! Your ship's all 'IDENTIFIED: STAR-LORD' and you don't even know who I am?"

"I don't," she answered flatly. "But I want to."

Well that wasn't what he was expecting.

"We all have orders to retrieve anyone who calls themselves by that name and bring them to Thanos. Why? Who are you to my father?"

"I'm the guy who touched an Infinity Stone and lived to tell about it." He was already buried pretty deep here. Nothing much to do but keep digging and hope he found another way out.

"That's impossible," she hissed, but she leaned closer to the bars as she spoke.

"No I really did. Well, I mean, I did in my universe. Apparently not in this one. The other Guardians and I used it to defeat Ronan and save the Galaxy-" A sharp bark of laughter cut him off.

"What are you trying to pull here? Xandar is destroyed. The Nova Corps with it. No one else stood in opposition."

"That's just what I'm saying. This is all wrong. Xandar wasn't supposed to be destroyed.  _Ronan_ was. But someone must have... changed it somehow."

"This is useless. If you're not going to make any sense then there's no point in talking with you any longer."

"No wait! I can prove it! I know things! The Orb, it's an Infinity Stone right? The stone of power. It's purple and Thanos kept it on Morath-no, Morag!"

"So what? You could have easily gathered that information by torturing some of these pathetic excuses for soldiers."

"No, no. I know because I stole it from Morag! But then Ronan stole it back before betraying Thanos and going after Xandar on his own."

"Ronan would never betray Thanos." Her tone was absolute, but he thought he could see a flicker of something in her expression. Damn those black eyes made her hard to read. Was she considering what he had to say or which of his limbs to break?

"But he did. And so did you." In for a penny. "The last time I saw you, you were swearing to 'hunt him like a dog' and put an end to the tyrant for good. I can help you with that!" It was Peter's turn to lean forward now. "Just let me go and I can find my friends and figure out how to fix all of this."

Nebula stiffened and pulled back from the bars. "Enough with your lies," she spat before turning on her heels and stalking away, leaving Peter staring into the dark corridor and listening to her footsteps fade away.

Well that could have gone better. But he supposed it could have gone a lot worse, too.

Nebula didn't return that night, and the guards never came back, either. He was starting to wonder if they intended to leave him to starve or die of dehydration when he finally heard the sound of footsteps returning. He'd spent much of the time dozing, but his stomach estimated that it would have been around lunch time the next day. He really hoped that whoever they were, they had brought food with them.

He was disappointed when two Kree soldiers stepped into view, empty handed save for a pair of matching blasters.

"Hey there. I had some complaints to make about the hospitality here. Is a little breakfast in bed really too much to ask? Honestly. I think I'd like to check out and head back to my ship now."

The door creaked in complaint as it was swung open. Gloved hands grabbed him roughly and manhandled him onto his feet. He was shoved between the two soldiers and marched back into the large hallway of the ship. Were these the same two soldiers as before? It was hard to be sure, they kind of all started to look the same in those uniforms.

"So what are the chances of getting one of you lovely fellas to take my handcuffs off, huh? I promise I won't do anything naughty. It's just my arms are kinda numb, and I'd like to make sure none of my uh, cellmates chewed off any of my fingers while I slept."

He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. Or he assumed they were wiggling. He wasn't entirely joking about the lack of feeling, but the guards seemed as unconcerned about his fingers as they were about everything else.

Sighing and giving up for now Peter decided to check on his surroundings instead. They quickly proved to be about as interesting as the guards. The hallway was most likely used to transport much larger things than their current three man group. In fact, it looked like a small army could comfortably march down the corridor, complete with tanks and armaments. Peter tried not to think too hard about what that implied and instead shifted his attention to the lights. Bright white panels lined the ceiling and were set into the walls at seemingly random intervals, throwing out light and creating a halo of shadows all around them in various shades of pinks and purples. The whole thing gave off a feeling of creeping horror that was just so wholesomely Kree.

He entertained himself for a while in wondering how the lights works, but by the time they suddenly turned down a smaller hallway shooting off to the left he was no closer to understanding them. Gamora, with her assassin's knowledge of about everything in the universe, would be able to tell him what they were called. Rocket could probably tell him exactly how they worked and come up with at least five different ways they could be weaponized and used to escape his current predicament.

Instead he was bound and helpless to do much of anything but march down the corridor and see what the universe was planning to gut punch him with next. Had he always been this useless alone, or had he become so used to relying on his team that he couldn't function on his own anymore?

With that depressing thought heavy on his shoulders, he followed the Kree through one more doorway and found himself at the foot of some staircase in some sort of dark and broody throne room. In the far corner of the room he spotted Nebula, the flash of her augmentations giving her away as she hovered in the shadows. He tossed her a wink which she answered with a disgusted snarl, then brought his attention to the stairs. Reclining on the throne at the very top of those stairs, haloed by more of those pinkish lights and cutting an imposing figure was none other than the Accuser himself.

Well shit. Despite having already gathered that Ronan was somehow alive in this... universe, reality, whatever it was, Peter couldn't escape the crawling feeling that he was looking at a dead man. A very much alive, very much dangerous, and very much holding a large hammer with a glowing Infinity Stone inside of it not-so-dead man. Double shit.

"Star-lord." Ronan's voice echoed around the chamber. Theatrical and overbearing, just like everything else about the Accuser. The butt of his warhammer scraped against the stone like floor as Ronan leaned forward on his throne. "You are the Star-ord?"

Peter puffed up slightly under the other man's scrutiny.

"Forgive my disbelief, but Thanos himself has issued orders to have you retrieved on sight and be brought before him. Such orders are rare indeed. So you can only imagine my surprise when my soldiers claim they have found that very Star-lord and then drag before me some sad excuse for a Terran street rat."

"Hey! I am not some sort of-"

"Silence!" A bang and a burst of light momentarily stunned Peter as Ronan slammed his hammer down for emphasis. A shiver made its way up his spine as he was, for just the barest moment, thrown back into the void that the infinity stone had pulled him into not so long ago.

Satisfied by Peter's seeming obedience, Ronan reclined back into his chair. "So, would you care to tell me what it is that gives the Titan such an interest in you?" the way the accuser said it, twice now in this very brief meeting, stirred Peter from his moment of disquiet.  _You._  In that same damnable tone used by Yondu the first time he'd successfully stolen something from the captain. ' _You_  did this?' The same tone echoed by so many clients just before being laughed out of a job. The same tone sneered out by so many guards just before being tazed by his favorite weapons.

Ronan was underestimating him. Good. He knew just how to work with that.

"Well, what can I say? Maybe your boys here made a mistake. No harm done. Just untie my hands and uh, point me back in the direction of my ship, and I'll get out of your hair- you do have hair right? I was never quite sure."

It was hard to tell with his face shrouded in darkness, but the Kree warlord didn't seem to be very impressed by Peter's offer.

"I will ask you again," he ground out with quickly fading patience. "Who are you?"

"I'm a Guardian of the Galaxy," Peter laughed back. "I'm the guy that killed you once and I'll do it again if I have to."

"Enough. It doesn't matter who you are Star-lord. You will be delivered to Thanos and he will dispose of you as he sees fit. Until then I don't want to see you again." With a wave the guards stepped forward and roughly dragged him back out of the room. The last thing he saw was Nebula's hard and calculating stare following him as he went.

-x-

After being shoved unceremoniously back into his cell he was once again left on his own. His stomach reminded him again that he hadn't had anything to eat or drink since at least yesterday. They knew he had to have those things to live, right? It would be awfully hard to deliver him alive to Thanos if he had died of dehydration along the way.

By the time Nebula appeared with a tray in her hands he was ready to kiss the ground at her feet. Instead he just sat up as gracefully as he could muster, which was, admittedly, not much, and offered her his best toothy grin as she unlocked the door and plopped it down in front of his crossed legs.

"Waitwaitwait!" he cried as she turned to leave. "I can't eat like this. Come on. At least let me have my hands back!"

For somebody with no pupils Nebula was really very talented at rolling her eyes, but she stepped around him anyways and removed his handcuffs with a click.

Peter pulled his arms in front of his chest and rubbed at his wrists. He could have moaned if the galaxy's angriest assassin wasn't currently glowering down at him like he was nothing but an overgrown orloni. As soon as he was sure he wouldn't drop it, he grabbed the cup of water with both hands and drank it down greedily then started in on the food, dragging the tray closer to himself and eating with his hands when it became apparent he would not be offered any utensils. It wasn't the first time he'd eaten with his hands, and as long as he didn't die here he doubted it would be his last. He managed to make it through about half his meal before Nebula's patience ran out.

The sound of her clearing her throat caused him to reluctantly drag his attention back to his current predicament. At some point the assassin had crossed back to the open door and now she leaned against the frame with her arm crossed and her lips pressed into a thin line.

"What did you mean when you said that you had killed Ronan once?" The bitter interrogational tone was as familiar as it was terrifying, and so was that gleam in her eyes and guarded hunch to her shoulders. She wanted something, but didn't want to admit she wanted it.

"Just what I said," he mumbled with a shrug and a mouthful of whatever this was. "I know it sounds completely crazy but this is all wrong. Xandar wasn't supposed to burn. Ronan was supposed to betray Thanos and steal the Infinity Stone for himself, and my friends and I were supposed to stop him."

"But how?" she pressed.

"The infinity stone. I-we held it and used its power against him."

Nebula's jaw clenched as she worked something over in her mind. Honestly, it was almost comical how very much alike her and Gamora were in their expressions. Not that he would ever say that to either of their faces unless he was feeling particularly suicidal that day.

"No mortal can hold an Infinity Stone and not be immediately destroyed," she scoffed, but there was just a hint of uncertainty in her voice now.

"Well... not to give away too much, but I may have been a teeny bit... less mortal at the time." Actually, now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure exactly how mortal he was right now. His connection to the Light had died with Ego, but if the Guardians had never saved Xandar, then what else could have changed? Was Ego even dead? Suddenly the last few bites of food on the tray seemed less than appealing.

"Do you think you could do it again?"

Could he?

A long pause followed as he stared blankly at his own hands. If he was part celestial again, which there was a good chance of that with how his luck was holding, then it was possible he could use it to destroy Ronan and find out what was going on.

"Yeah. Probably. But I'll need my friends." A sneer pulled at her lips at that, but once Nebula made up her mind about something she pursued it relentlessly. He had found his ticket out of here.

"Those stones may be the only power in this universe that can rival my father's. If you can truly wield them, then this would explain why he has such an interest in you. You are a threat to him."

"Hold up a second. I thought we were talking about taking out Ronan. Thanos is like, a thousand times more powerful that that overgrown Kree Lawyer!"

"I'm sure he would find that comparison insulting." Nebula replied coolly. "Regardless, Thanos is well on his way to controlling the galaxy, and the longer we wait the more impossible it will become to destroy him. You may be my last chance to destroy that bastard and you want to stay here cowering in your little cell?"

If Peter was being honest, she had a point. Ronan had betrayed Thanos in his universe, but here he appeared to be working under the Titan's orders like any good little minion. The odds were good that whoever was pulling the strings on this nightmare, it wasn't The Accuser. If he wanted to get to the bottom of this and get the universe back on track he needed some time.

"Look. If you can get me out of here I can find my friends and I am sure we can figure out some way to set everything right again."

Nebulas eyes narrowed and her whole body tensed in a subtle yet very effective threat.

"If-If we can't figure out a way back, I will help you take out Thanos," he appeased quickly, holding his hands up in mock surrender. It seemed to work as some of the tension left her form.

"Good. Before the next cycle is through we will be passing a hidden gateway that can take us to a place where Ronan will not think to follow. What will you need?" It was weird to have Nebula asking him anything in a serious tone, without anything more than the usual undercurrent of sarcasm and seething hatred that seeped into everything she did.

Peter shoved the tray with the last few bites away from his body and leaned forward. "First, we'll need the stone."

"That won't be a problem." In the silence that followed Peter waited for her to give an explanation as to how exactly she intended to steal one of the galaxies most powerful weapons from one of the galaxy's most powerful war generals in such a way that it wouldn't be consider a problem. None ever came.

"Okay. Well. On my ship I have several storage units that should be able to safely contain it. They were made for smuggling high powered or radioactive contraband without tripping off any sensors, so they should be able to hold the stone at least for a while. Then we'll just have to steal the stone, get back to my ship-I'll need my blasters back, by the way-, and hightail it out of here before anyone notices. Piece of cake, right?"

-x-

The first part was easy enough. Peter described where to find the containment units, and Nebula vanished with his tray and empty cup and reappeared a short amount of time later with one in hand.

The second part was where it got a bit tricky. After a brief discussion it was decided that it would be better for Peter to already be on the Milano while Nebula stole the stone, rather than risk her having to come fetch him after an alarm was raised. No one questioned the assassin as she marched the once again bound Peter through the hallways. What they did not agree upon, was how after Nebula had escorted him to his ship she left him cuffed to the ladder that led to the flight deck. 'So you won't get any ideas and try to leave too early' she had told him with a smirk before vanishing back into the warship's holding bay.

"NEBULA!" He shouted after her, but she was already gone. Glancing around, he noticed that at some point his ship had been ransacked. Drawers were pulled open and their contents scattered about. "Oh come on guys! That is NOT COOL!" His blasters sat on a shelf on the far wall, probably Nebula's doing, and he was relieved to spy his Walkman discarded on a nearby shelf. With some cursing and creative contorting he even managed to get ahold of it, wrangling the headphones around his neck with his free hand and turning on some tunes while he waited.

The waiting that followed was agony. Both because Peter was a man of action so being stuck on the ship with no clue what was going on went against every fiber of his being, and because the blasted assassin had cuffed his arm up too high and he couldn't reach the floor to sit. He was pretty sure she had done it intentionally. She was spiteful like that. By the time Nebula burst back onto the ship, followed by a very angry sounding alarm, he had managed to shimmy up the ladder into a sitting position with his legs through the rungs and was working through 'Escape' by Rupert Holmes for the second time.

"Well that doesn't sound very-" He was cut off by Nebula's hand to his face she shoved past him and up the ladder.

"MOVE! We don't have time for your idiocy!" The ship rumbled to life and jerked off the floor leaving Peter scrambling for a solid grip on the ladder before he was flung about like a ragdoll.

"What happened?!" he tried calling up past the angry sound of the Milano's engines struggling under the rough treatment.

"Just shut up and get ready. We've got five seconds until they figure out how to unjam the hangar door."

"Until they wh-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh!?" Even with his death grip Peter was nearly ripped from the ladder as the Milano suddenly burst forward at full speed. Somewhere over his own screams and the protests of his poor abused ship he could hear the sound of weapons being fired at them. Loose debris was flung around the room as she dodged through the blasts, bouncing off the walls, furniture, and his body. It reminded him of when he was a child and he used to sit and watch his mother do the laundry. He used to think it looked like fun to be tossed about in the dryer as well. Like most childhood dreams, the reality was painful and disappointing.

As he moved to cover his head with his free arm, something small and shiny caught his attention. Aha! Perfect! It was a tiny unassuming pocket-knife like object, only it contained a mini blowtorch, among other things, that he could use to free himself. It was made for minor self-repairs on the ship, but there was no reason it couldn't also cut through the cord holding him to the ladder.

It took several sharp turns and more than just a few embarrassingly failed attempts, but Peter eventually managed to swipe it out of the air as it whizzed pass. The tiny welding blade made short work of the metal cuff and soon he was scrambling up into the flight deck, hastily shoving his walkman into his pocket. Another particularly sharp turn nearly sent him tumbling back down bellow. Up here, at least, there was no loose debris and he managed to drag himself into the co-pilot's chair with minimal bruising.

"What the hell are you doing!?" he cried as he wrestled with the seat belt.

"Your ship pilots like an old Shi'ar Junker!"

"Don't you blame this on my ship! I could steer better than this drunk and missing a limb!"

"Keep talking and you might get to try out that second part."

They seemed to be gaining some distance from the Kree fighters that were firing at them, and Nebula was performing a few less acrobatics to avoid their beams.

"So where is this gateway? Because all I see up ahead is one very unwelcoming asteroid belt." A stream of asteroids, most of which could easily dwarf his Milano, stretched out in front of them. The colossal rocks hovered uncomfortably close to one another, jostling and bumping into each other like the stampeding herds of cattle on an old western. And Nebula was speeding straight towards them at an alarming rate.

"Nebulaaaa!" He cried as she pulled up at the last second so they were flying parallel to the great asteroids. The beams from the pursuing ships sinking futher and further behind them sent up sprays of debris as they missed wildly. Just as the last ship winked out of sight over the horizon of stone Nebula cranked the controls violently to the left and sent them careening into a gap between two gigantic boulders. Oh shit. Peter scrambled for the controls but Nebula batted him away without looking up from the windshield. She had officially lost it. He was going to die smushed in between these two rocks like some sort of Star-lord sandwich.

The Milano flipped and bounced through the increasing darkness, Peter's chest aching with every new scrape and dent. Just when he thought his ship was about to fall apart the asteroids vanished and they were falling through open sky.

**End**

**Chapter 3 Teaser:**  " _...Despite his neck's protest he managed to turn his head enough to watch in horror as Nebula's right shoulder relocated its self. He was pretty sure he could see her vertebra shift and pop underneath the skin tight suit as well. The sight and wet popping noises were enough to make his already unsettled stomach turn. It wasn't the first time he'd seen Nebula's cybernetic enhancements at work, but it was the first time he'd had the pleasure witnessing them from a front row seat. It was a pleasure, he decided, that he could live without..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters down. This one feels pretty short to me, but I needed to get them off that ship and moving on. I'm going to work on making future chapters a bit longer. The third one is already longer, though it's not quite finished yet, and then we should be getting into more action and less set-up so.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Despite not being completely satisfied with the results, this was still lots of fun to write.


	3. The Spirit in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding himself stranded on a strange planet with only Nebula as his less than eager guide, and no clue where to go from here, Peter stumbles across some incredible news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In an effort to contain future ramblings, I now have a Tumblr dedicated to this story so I can put up extra notes and such which would clutter these boxes too much. Feel free to check it out. It's under ThereAreMonstersInTheDark, since OfMonstersAndMe was taken.)
> 
> Chapter 3! Thank you so much to everyone who left reviews and Kudos, they made me so happy and definitely encouraged me to keep going! This was probably my favorite chapter to write so far, even though it's probably going to read pretty slow. It's mostly just set up for the next couple of chapters which will start getting us into the central plot and heavy action. Updates will start slowing down now as I catch up to what I have already written. The next chapter is mostly done, but I like to give myself a few days before I post it up in case I change my mind about anything or get a plot idea while working on the next chapter and I have to edit it.
> 
> As per usual, these characters and settings all belong to Marvel.

**Chapter 3: The Great Spirit in the Sky**

_Korath took shallow breaths. The air on this planet was dry and reeked of refuse. Even in the great halls where the upper class lounged about and surrounded themselves in fineries the foul undertone could not be escaped._

_"Korath! My dear boy, what a pleasure it is to have you here. I've been loking forward to your visit." Something dark flickered across Korath's face at the so-called emperor's much too familiar tone._

_"I am not here to exchange pleasantries," he warned. "I am here at the behest of my father. We have business to discuss about this contest of yours."_

-x-

In his escapades across the known universe Peter had visited many planets. He'd come to them in a myraid of ways. Some he'd slipped into through back alley methods, curled up in suitcases and huddled under long tailcoats of his crewmates, helping the ravagers with smuggling and other equally illegal activities, others had possessed special atmospheres which had required him to shuttle down from distant outstations. In some cases he had landed peacefully in the universe's equivalent of parking structures, he'd left his fair share of indents in open fields and lots, and if one were to press a gun to his head he would admit to having crash landed on an embarrassing number of planets. He was proud to say, at least, that this was the first time he had ever crash landed into a sea of trash.

As Peter stared at the wall of discarded items smashed up against his now very filthy windshield, his hands dangling above his head and the straps on his copilot's chair digging into his shoulders, he wondered if he had ever been here before. That crumpled blue lawn chair off to the left looked kind of familiar.

A horrible crunching noise caused him to drag his attention away from the chair that was spinning and multiplying in front of him. Despite his neck's protest he managed to turn his head enough to watch in horror as Nebula's right shoulder relocated its self. He was pretty sure he could see her vertebra shift and pop underneath the skin tight suit as well. The sight and wet popping noises were enough to make his already unsettled stomach turn. It wasn't the first time he'd seen Nebula's cybernetic enhancements at work, but it was the first time he'd had the pleasure of a front row seat. It was a pleasure, he decided, that he could live without in the future.

Eventually the popping ended and her bones returned to their normal, quiet, stationary state. Peter just stared dumbly as she stretched and rolled her shoulders before reaching for the controls and starting up the Milano's engines.

"Doesn't that-Doesn't that  _hurt_?" he asked quietly. His arms swung as the ship jerked and struggled its way free of the debris.

"It does. Every single time." Her uncharacteristically soft words were almost lost in the screaming of his poor ship and the crunch of items as they were shoved harshly out of the way, some leaving slimy trails across his windshield in their wake. He wasn't sure if he was meant to hear it at all.

With a final screeching shudder they burst free of the pile of garbage they had been buried in and only just managed to flip upright before crashing into the next pile down. If there had been anything in Peter's stomach, he was sure it would have come back up by now. As it was, he didn't have the strength to do much but slouch forward in his seat and groan as his ship staggered across the desert of trash towards what looked like the skyline to a very large city.

Up close, the city was much less... impressive, than it had seemed from far away. The buildings were massive and screamed of some level of luxury, but the roads between them were piled high with more trash and debris and what appeared to be a perpetual cloud of dust. It was kind of like seeing an orchid growing out of a dung pile. They didn't make it down more than handful of streets before the Milano gave a great sputter and they had to make a quick and dirty-emphasis on dirty- landing in a mostly empty lot sandwiched between several smaller structures.

"Welcome to Sakaar." Nebula proclaimed dryly while working herself free of the buckles and moving towards the ladder, snatching the container with the infinity stone off the dashboard where it had been magnetized onto a special pad designed to hold things steady in turbulence. Peter couldn't help but feel that the bleak sky and empty streets didn't look very welcoming as he followed her off the ship. Outside didn't do much to improve his impression of this new world. The air was dry and surprisingly cold and the wind was kicking up clouds of sand that pelted uncomfortably against his skin.

While Nebula fiddled with something on her wrist, Peter turned to survey the damage to his precious ship. His face screwed up against the new collection of dings and gashes she boasted. A lap around the Milano revealed that it was in as close to one piece as he could have hoped, but it was certainly in no condition to fly, let alone exit the atmosphere. They were as good as stranded.

"I hope you have some friends here, because the Milano is going to need some serious repairs before she'll be seaworthy again."

"I have no friends," she deadpanned, still not looking up from whatever she was doing. "And we can attain a new ship once we have decided our next course of action."

"Oh no! You broke her-you're fixing her! I'm not leaving my ship marooned on the universe's largest garbage dump!" The assassin spared him a heated glare before giving some dial on her wrist one final turn that was probably more vicious than it needed to be. Some sort of holographic map flickered to life. After studying the pale blue lines for a few beats she turned and strolled purposefully down one of the alleys which looked exactly like all the others as far as Peter could tell.

"Wait, what about my ship? Are we just leaving it here?" Peter moved to gesture at it but grimaced and snapped his arm back to his side when his shoulder protested the movement.

"It's broken. No one could take it if they wanted it." Her tone made it clear just how likely she thought that was.

A cold vice gripped his heart at the thought of leaving his ship alone and unguarded, but Nebula was quickly vanishing from sight and he didn't want to lose track of her on this strange planet. Feeling uncomfortably like the small child he had been the first time he'd found himself on an unknown world with only a grouchy blue-skinned guide who may or may not have taken him here to sell or murder him, Peter threw one last mournful glance at his ship and limped after her.

The streets here were a labyrinth. A filthy, crowded labyrinth. Any chance at remembering the way back to the Milano was quickly trampled under the feet of the passing crowds. Members of all kinds of races -some he recognized and others he didn't- shuffled past. He stopped counting somewhere around fifteen and just settled for enjoying the eclectic view. It wasn't every day one could see a Badoon and a Kree walking side by side like old friends. No matter the species they all wore gaudy over the top clothing and makeup. Those with hair had it done up in fantastic updo's that spat in the face of physics. The layer of dust over even the most vibrant of outfits and filthy, sandal bare toes, flashing out from under robes and skirts while they traveled down streets still lined with trash, gave the rather whimsical impression of first class hobos.

They made their way down a twisting route which left his head spinning. Although, the concussion may have had something to do with that as well. Several jokes about them being hopelessly lost had died on his tongue before Nebula finally halted in front of a pair of very serious looking doors leading to the tallest building he had seen so far. They were painted a dull blue and stood at least three times his height. From the looks of it they were made out of some sort of heavy metal and could probably withstand a siege. Judging from the dents and missing patches of paint, they already had.

"This is where the Grandmaster lives," she informed him. "Stay quiet and don't do anything stupid."

"Grand Master, huh? Awfully shabby looking doors for someone who calls himself the Grandmaster." Peter joked, managing to cross his arms with only a slight wince.

"What did I just say?" she growled out, her nose wrinkling into a sneer as she shoved the massive doors open with apparent ease and stepped inside.

"This is a loading bay that will take us to the upper floors without fuss. It's a bit less... obnoxious than using the front door."

Curious, but not wanting to push the violent assassin much further right now, he hot tailed it after her.

Where the streets had been bleak and dirty, the upper levels were a picture of luxury and excess. Nebula had lead them to some sort of service elevator which had released them into what felt like a whole other planet. All around them people milled about in shimmering finery and lounged on furniture that was probably worth more than he would earn in a year. Crystal clear glasses waved about and shiny trays of fine food made their ways about the rooms. An upbeat techno melody kept the beat to it all from somewhere up above.

Peter followed in Nebula's wake as she cut her way through the crowd like a shark through a swarm of tropical fish. He cast furtive glances at the food and drink as they passed but couldn't stop without risking losing his only guide. He didn't know if the blue assassin would bother turning back for him if he got lost and he didn't plan on finding out the hard way.

"Nebula!" A jubilant voice halted them in their tracks. The crowd quickly parted to reveal a grinning old man draped in yellow and red silk robes, arms spread wide over his head in a welcoming gesture. In contrast to this sunny man, a middle aged woman with dark hair pulled into a tight bun glowered over his shoulder like a cat who had just spotted an unwelcome house guest.

The man swept forward and offered Nebula a curt bow, reaching out his hand as though he intended to greet her with a kiss on the wrist. Peter was somewhat disappointed when Nebula pointedly ignored the gesture. It would have made for a treasured memory. Or blackmail.

"Nebula, my dear!" Seemingly unfazed by her reaction, the man straightened and continued in his loud overzealous tone. "It is always an absolute pleasure to have you here on Sakaar. Come! Come! Make yourself at home! Someone bring this woman a drink! I just got some of the finest-"

"I'm not here to socialize," Nebula cut him off roughly. "I am here on business. I will require a place to stay for the duration of my visit, along with repairs for my...  _vessel_."

"Of course! Anything for the daughter of Thanos. Topaz!" He turned to address the woman still glaring over his shoulder "See to it that she gets one of our finest guest suites. Oh, but not the green one. I need that for the uh, thing, later."

Topaz, who's face might just be permanently stuck like that, gave him the briefest of nods before vanishing back into the sea of guests who had long since lost interest in their conversation and resumed their own activities.

"Now then! While she prepares your room why don't you enjoy yourself? Sit! Have a drink! Try the baked Hazir. It's magnificent." As he spoke, the Grandmaster swept and arm around Nebula's shoulder and bundled her forward.

"I believe it would be more prudent to take my associate here to the nearest medical bay," she replied coolly, sidestepping out of his hold and back toward Peter. The Grandmaster's face screwed up as though just noticing the filthy party crasher for the first time. Peter was sure he stuck out like a sore thumb, sweaty and filthy from his stay in the prison cell and subsequent crash into a literal garbage heap, covered in bruises and scrapes, and still slightly cradling his right arm against his side.

"Yeeesss," their host drawled, stepping back slightly, as though afraid standing too close to Peter's disheveled form would somehow stain his pristine robes. "I suppose that would be best. Right through those blue doors and down three levels. There's a big sign, you can't miss it." He waved towards a pair of doors off to his left before turning and vanishing quickly among his guests, casting one last disgusted look at Peter as he went.

The medical bay was more like an entire medical floor. While it lacked the over the top decor of the previous rooms, it was designed entirely in a pure white that was just as dazzling and disorientating. Everything, from the tiled floor to the furniture, to the outfits of the sparse medical workers they passed was the same impossibly blank shade, blending everything together and making his already aching head spin as he struggled to tell everything apart.

The rubber soles of his boots made tiny squeaking noises against the floor as he once again followed at Nebula's heels while she lead them through the dizzying hallways. She moved with a steady purpose that had him thinking that she must have been through here before. By the time they stopped in what looked much like an empty hospital room back on Earth, Peter was ready to weep at the sight of the empty bed. The sheets were cool and soft against his skin as he collapsed face first into them as soon as he could force his wobbling legs to carry him over.

"If you want to stay here for the night, that's fine with me. Better than having you stink up the whole room I'll be staying in."

Peters only response was an unintelligible moan.

"Here." Something small and sharp slapped against his ribs causing him to jump. It was a packet containing several small white pills. Printed on the label was a series of symbols that he recognized as pain medication he had taken once before on some dusty planet called Xerik, or Zarik, or something like that. How considerate.

With renewed energy, he rolled over and popped a few into his mouth, choosing to swallow them dry rather than get up to search for something to wash them down with. Zarik may have been one grubby little backwater civilization, but damn could they make good pain meds! As Peter lay back on the bed he just focused on the silence and blissful feeling of the pain practically melting out of his limbs and clearing from his head. He didn't even realize that he had drifted out of consciousness until the sound of Nebula slamming closed the drawer she'd pulled the medicine from woke him up.

"There's a shower behind that door," Nebula informed him, pointing towards a door that Peter hadn't even noticed earlier in his rush to make it to the bed. "I suggest you use it. I'll be back in the morning to collect you."

"Hang on a second," he croaked out, managing to prop himself up on his elbows to look at her. "You're just going to leave me here?"

"You'll be fine," she snapped, her patience clearly running out. "Just stay here until I come back." With that she stepped through the doorway and was promptly swallowed up by the bright hallway. She would make a terrible parent, was his last delirious thought before laying back and letting himself return to sleep.

-x-

By the time Nebula returned as promised, Peter had already showered, chugged about a gallon of water from the sink with the help of a little mug he'd found on an end table, and was currently rooting through the drawers for any sign of something edible.

"What are you doing?"

Peter yelped and banged his head against the open drawer above him like a guilty kid caught raiding the pantry after hours. He didn't understand how he had missed her approach in the otherwise silent room. Gamora had always been freakishly adept at sneaking up on him in silent rooms as well. The thought of his missing teammate did nothing to improve his outlook as he gave a halfhearted glare at the closest thing he had to a partner right now. While the appearance of Gamora usually filled him with confidence and trust, her sister just made his hand itch to cover his face before something hard made contact with it.

"Just, uh, looking for breakfast." He swallowed dryly and grabbed the counter to hoist himself up out of his crouch. The night's sleep had helped with the worst of the pains, but his muscles were still stiff and sore from the last few unforgiving days.

"You won't find any in there," she pointed out flatly, then stepped back out of the room. "Come on."

She lead him back to a large suite on the next level. It was a massive open room with a window that nearly took up ]the entire wall across from the entryway and let in the bright natural light that reflected off of the off-white walls and gave the place a pleasant homey glow. A spacious living room of sorts sat nestled under the window, complete with a set of matching maroon couches and love seat that looked so squishy he found himself concerned that if he sat on any of them, he wouldn't be ably to get back up in his current state. In the center of the couches was a wide low table that was carved out of something that reminded him of his grandfather's mahogany desk back on Earth. Set behind the couches was a full kitchen, divided from the main room by a long bar with a matching mahogony-like counter. Several oversized doorways lead off from the big room, but the doors were closed so Peter could on hazard guesses at what they were.

Peter made a straight line for the kitchen as soon as he spied a bowl of fresh fruit perched on the island in the center. Scooping up a fruit that looked familiar, though he couldn't recall its name, he shoveled it into his mouth, ignoring the juice that dripped down his chin as he used his free hand to rifle through the rest of the cupboards. The starving man was more than pleased by what he found, pulling out anything that caught his eye and tossing into a pile next to the fruit bowl. By the time he polished off the fruit and tossed its core into the trash receptical he had a pretty good looking stash. Next, he snatched a sweet protein bar from the top and barely bothered to rip the plastic off before shoving that into his mouth as well as he pulled down a plate and made to prepare a sandwich.

As he was carefully lining the meat on the bread, the food he'd eaten so far seemed to finally calm his stomach enough that he could pause and look around. Nebula was staring at him in open disgust, nostrils flared and head reared back. Suddenly feeling just a bit self conscious he swallowed the last of the protein bar, crumpling up the wrapper and slowing to a less frantic pace as he opened a condiment jar and busied himself with carefully spreading some onto the bread.

"If you are ready to behave like a sentient creature again, we can begin to plan our next move."

Peter nodded his head sheepishly, but kept working on his meal. "Can I ask-? Are you sure it's a good idea to stay in one place? How long do you think we'll be safe here?"

"Time works...  _differently_ , here on Sakaar," she told him, crossing her arms and leaning her hip against the bar. "By the time Ronan reports to Thanos about what has happened and thinks to come here, many days will have passed. Although, I am hoping they won't need to. As soon as your ship is ready to go I plan to be off this trash filled planet."

In part, Peter agreed with her urge to get out of this place. Something here was very unsettling and he couldn't wait to put it all in the back burners. The only problem was that he honestly had no clue what to do next. The whole time he'd spent in the cell and following after Nebula he'd been wracking his brain for any idea of where his friends might be, but he still had nothing.

Gamora had tracked him down on Xandar from who knows where, and while Nebula would most likely be able to tell him where she was now, the two of them had always had a very... strained relationship, and he would feel much better if he had at least one of his other friends by his side to keep her from strangling him at the mention of her sister's name. He knew depressingly little about Rocket and Groot's origins. They had both already been on Xandar before he arrived there with the stone, and he refused to consider the possibility that they had been there when Ronan had arrived with the infinity stone in this universe. Drax was the only one who he might have had a chance to track down right now...

"Do you know anything about a prison called The Kyln?" he asked, shuffling the sandwich together and taking a small bite. Too much sauce.

"The Nova Prison? It's gone."

"As in...?" he pressed around a mouthful of disgustingly soggy sandwich.

"As in 'gone.' Thanos ordered it shut down and disbanded. All Nova guards were killed, along with all the prisoners who would not swear allegiance to the Mad Titan."

Peter took another bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as he processed this new information. There was no way Drax would ever swear his allegiance to Thanos. His only hope was that Drax had been smart enough to flee. It was, admittedly, a very thin hope.

Before he could formulate a reply, Nova stood from the bar. "I am going to make arrangements for your... ship. I suggest you figure out where we are going next, Star-lord. I plan to leave the moment repairs are finished."

-x-

"... _When I die and they lay me to rest_

_Gonna go to the place that's the best_

____

____

_When I lay me down to die_

_Goin' up to the spirit in the sky_..."

Peter bobbed his head along to the song playing from his headphones as he wandered through the streets. After finishing his sandwich he'd quickly grown bored in the big empty suite and decided to try to clear his head with a good old fashion aimless stroll.

The dingy streets weren't terribly inspiring, but it was doing his sore legs some good to stretch them out at least. There didn't seem to be a whole lot to do around here, which might explain how all these people had so much time to spend on their appearances. Around the time his legs started begging for a break, he stumbled upon an open doorway with the sounds of drunken laughter and golden light spilling out. It was the most welcoming thing Peter had seen since stepping foot on this planet and he happily ducked inside.

The smell of liquor and hot food washed over him, returning him to a sense of almost normalcy as he made his way to the bar counter and placed an order. Most of the patrons here appeared to be dressed more practically, many were decked out in well worn armor, weapons slung over shoulders and strapped to their sides as they chatted and smiled, drinks sloshing about in mismatching mugs.

His drink was slid to him in a large grey stein which he quickly snatched off the bar, tossing a handful of units in its place.

Over in the far corner a small crowd had gathered, cheering and whooping, and Peter gravitated over as he sipped from his cup. In the center of the small crowd was a large Autocron male and a woman who could almost pass for human at first glance, but the fact that she was not only holding her own against the iron-based behemoth, but appeared to be beating him in an arm wrestling match, suggested that she was something else. The Autocron's cheeks were puffed out in concentration and his grunts could be heard over the hooting of the crowd as the woman shoved his arm closer and closer to the table with an easy grin. Peter was quickly swept up in the excitement, shouting and whooping out with the rest of the patrons in celebration when she finally slammed her opponent's hand onto the table with a solid crack.

Coins were tossed onto the table and money exchanged hands as she took a deep swig from her own rather impressive stein. Judging by the number of bets which appeared to have been placed on her, this wasn't the first time she had bested someone at this game.

The woman tossed a few loose strands of dark hair out of her flushed face and glanced around, gesturing silently for anyone else to challenge her. When her dark eyes landed on Peter, he took a step back with a laugh and a wave. He wasn't anywhere near drunk enough to think he could take her on.

Pouting when no one stepped forward to offer another game, she swept her portion of the winnings into a satchel at her side as the crowd dispersed, still chatting happily amongst themselves.

"Don't get a lot of ravagers around these parts." Her voice stopped him as he moved to leave.

"Oh uh, I'm not really..." he started, looking down at his red coat. "Hi. I'm Star-lord, Legendary Outlaw," he finished after a pause, holding out his free hand for a shake.

"Uh huh." She laughed behind her mug, eyes sizing him up as she leaned back in her chair, kicking out the one from across the table. "Take a seat there, Star-lord. I don't see many fresh faces around this bar. Maybe you could share some news from the galaxies."

Peter slid into the offered seat gratefully, settling the heavy mug down on the table to give his arm a break.

"I'm scrapper 142," she said flippantly. "And you look like you just walked away from a very unpleasant landing. Or limped away, I should say?"

"You have no clue how accurate that statement is." Peter grinned back. "I don't know how much I can tell you about the universe. I'm afraid I just got here myself." Scrapper 142 -honestly what kind of name was that?- raised one perfectly trimmed eyebrow at this but made no further comment, as though this was a relatively normal thing for a stranger to tell her.

"I guess, Ronan has destroyed Xandar and the Nova Corps is gone." He sighed, the cheery atmosphere of the bar fading to the background slightly as he thought again of all those lost souls.

"Xandar's gone? So Thanos has made it that far, huh?" she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. She had an accent that felt oddly familiar to Peter, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Yeah." He nodded anyways. "It seems like he kinda runs this place, too, huh? At least that Grandmaster guy seems to work for him."

The scrapper snorted into her drink at this. "The Grandmaster works for himself. The Titan has no use for this place, so as long as we stay out of his way he lets us continue on as we like. Sometimes he throws his 'troublemakers' our way to fight in the Grandmaster's games. Most of them die there." She didn't look at him as she spoke, instead staring out into the tavern while she rocked her chair back and forth on two of its legs.

"Well that's... nice of him, I guess."

"Pft. Yeah. Nice." Another deep swig and she had drained the contents of her large mug entirely. "Well, it was nice chatting with you, Star-lord, but I have work to do and want to be at least twice this drunk before the matches start. Catch you around." With that she stood from her chair and tossed him a wink and a tip of her empty mug before staggering off towards the bar counter.

Peter just sipped his own drink and watched as the bartender handed her a large 6-pack of something and she vanished out the door. So Thanos was in charge of this place, but pretty much just in name? Well, that was at least a little heartening. And the people here didn't seem to be all to loyal to him, more like they just didn't care either way as long as they got to drink and carry on.

Deciding he liked these back corners a lot better than the upper levels after all, Peter took his time and finished off his drink slowly, reveling in the warm glow and lively chatter. Eventually his drink ran out and he was left stretching and deciding he ought to start making his way back to the tower where his room was waiting.

The walk back was pleasant enough. Peter even whistled a soft tune, hands shoved into his pockets against the chill. The sun was just starting to set over the horizon of architecture, leaving the people on the streets in deep shadows while the tops of the taller towers still glittered gold in the last of the dying light.

As he rounded one of the taller buildings, the tower he and Nebula had been staying in came into sight, and the whistle caught in his throat as he noticed several very large heads had been built into the infrastructure of the skyscraper. It wasn't the quality of these larger than life busts that froze him in his tracks, nor the way that they lit up, blinding and overbearing, above him. No, what startled him like a deer in headlights was the gargantuan face of one of his missing teammates staring down at the city. Staring down at him. The swirling tattoos, carved across the large face with an obvious devotion to detail, were unmistakable. Yesterday he and Nebula had approached from the other direction, so he had missed this very important detail. He'd been so close to one of his best friends this whole time and hadn't even known it.

Gasping like a fish out of water, Peter reached out and roughly grabbed the closest person, ignoring their squeak as he yanked them around and pointed at the tower.

"Who is that!"

"It-It's the Champion!"

"The who?"

"Please don't hurt me!" The stranger shrunk away from his wild eyed interrogation as best they could and babbled on. "I-It's the current winner of The Grandmaster's Contest of Champions. He's-he's undefeated. Please let me go!"

Peter loosened his grip and they wasted no time hightailing it down the street as fast as their impractical shoes would let them. Peter, in turn, hurried back towards the tower, the pain in his legs shoved to the back of his mind at the thought of getting one of his friends back.

**End**

**Chapter 4 teaser:**  "... _The clean clothes were honestly not an entirely unwelcome change from his sweaty, sticky outfit, even if they weren't exactly his normal style. The inky black pants were made of some sort of heavy silk that gave him the feeling of wearing pajamas rather than real clothes, and the oversized gold shirt was embroidered in an odd pattern with maroon glass beads that matched the furniture. It was hideous. He hated it..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a blast writing Peter and Nebula interacting awkwardly and getting to work on some character development for Nebula. I'm trying to balance seeing another side of her while remaining in character so please let me know if she feels too out of character here. In the movies we always see her cast in Gamora's shadow. She only defected from Thanos _after_ Gamora had already left, her chosen ally Ronan was literally blown up by Gamora's allies, Thanos flat out tells her he wants to _make her Gamora's equal_ , and even when we see the start of a redemption arc in GotG2, it starts with _Gamora_ saving _her_ from the Sovereign and Nebula dealing with the crew as Gamora's friends who tolerate her for her sister's sake. For all her strength and prowess she is really just always desperately struggling to catch up to her sister who never even bothers to acknowledge her. "You wanted to win, and I just wanted a sister." I think Nebula is a lot more emotional than she often gets credit for, but showing emotion, especially around Gamora, tends to lead to suffering so she resents it and buries it under a heavy layer of spite. Kind of like an abused dog, she wants to trust, but just expects pain and betrayal in turn. In this universe we get to see a Nebula who made the decision to leave Thanos first. She's still the angry, sarcastic, jaded assassin we all know and love, but with just a bit more confidence in herself and her own decisions, and just maybe, the opportunity to forge her own friendships and allies. She finally has something that's hers. Just hers. Something her sister can never take away from her. Her freedom and what could almost be called a friend. I could go on like this for a long while so I'll stop here.
> 
> Also, I hope I did Bruunhilde some justice. Ragnarok isn't out on DVD yet so I was trying to write her off of what I remembered in the theater. The same could be said of Sakaar as a whole.
> 
> Finally, I don't know how it fits into the main comic and movie canons of the Guardians, but in the cartoon that came out some time ago I recall that it was mentioned several times that Drax the Destroyer was a champion in the Grandmaster's tournaments for a while after losing his family. So hopefully this will be a fun nod towards that. I haven't seen all of the episodes so I'm sorry if I misinterpreted anything. It was too perfect of an opportunity for me to pass up, though.


	4. Hey Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's found Drax, but finding him is only the start. This Drax may not be the same friend he remembers. Meanwhile his tentative partnership with Nebula continues to develop, but how will bringing in a stout hater of Thanos and his schildren change that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the 20k word mark! I know that's not much for some people, but this is my first story so it's a big deal for me. Anyways, this is the first chapter that's not named after one the songs from Peter's Awesome Mix. I decided back when I first started this that all the chapters would have a song that correlated with the text, but since I plan for this to be a very long project, and not all of the songs always fit, I will be using some songs from my personal playlist as well. For obvious copyright reasons these songs will have no place in the text, like the canon songs sometimes will. Some will be chosen for literal meanings, others for deep metaphorical meanings, and some will be puns. I love puns. For this chapter I have chosen 'Hey Brother' by Avicii. It's a bit of all three and a fun nod toward both Peter's meeting drax and developing friendship with Nebula. You do not have to like or listen to the song, but I enjoy choosing them and they help keep me motivated. For more chapter specific notes read the notes at the bottom, or my Tumblr, ThereAreMonstersInTheDark.

**Chapter 4: Hey Brother**

"The Contest of Champions?" Nebula repeated, raising her eyebrows at the man sitting on the couch across from her. The blue assassin was reclining on her own couch, legs thrown up carelessly on the priceless table next to an emptied plate. "It's just some stupid pit fight the locals use for entertainment. The ship will be stocked and repaired in a matter of days. I don't see any reason why we should attend one."

"Because I recognize the Champion! I'm telling you, that giant head sticking out of the tower we're sitting in _right now_ is my friend, Drax. I can't believe he was here all along. It's so perfect!" Peter was leaning forward earnestly, knees bouncing as he spoke.

"So you're telling me one of these 'friends' of yours is just some glorified cage fighter? What's next? A petty thug and an embezzler?"

Peter was momentarily caught off guard by Nebula's reply. Did she just make a joke? Was she capable of that? Did Nebula even understand humor beyond her regular sarcasm?

"No, well... No. Look. He's the 'undefeated champion' of these cage fights so that's got to count for something right? This guy is _tough_ , believe me. He'll be a huge asset to us and I need him if I'm going to wield that Infinity Stone again."

That last argument seemed to make at least some impact as her brows lowered into a more normal height.

"Look. You said the ship won't be ready for a couple days. There's no harm in attesting at least one of these matches and finding out if it really is my friend."

"Fine," she relented, dropping her feet from the table with a thunk and standing from the squishy couch in one swift movement. "We can attend one match. There's nothing better to do in this heap anyways."

"Where are you going now?" he asked as she bypassed the smaller doors that Peter had since learned lead to a pair of mirrored bedrooms, heading instead towards the main door.

"To speak with the Grandmaster," she said with her hand paused on the door handle. "I am not sitting in those filthy stadium seats. Get some rest, Star-lord. You look terrible." With that she was gone and Peter was left to struggle his own way out of the cloying couch cushions. How did she make it look so easy?

With nothing to do but wait for her return it finally hit Peter how tired he was so he slipped into one of the bedrooms and washed his face in the adjoined bathroom before crawling under the duvet and quickly falling asleep.

-x-

He awakened the next morning in a pile of tangled limbs and blankets. One of the sheets had been tossed entirely to the floor, and there was a puddle of drool forming on his pillow. Sitting up with a groan and wiping the drool off of his chin he grimaced at the reflection staring back at him from the mirrors on the closet doors across the room. His hair stuck up in a wild halo and the dark bruising across his face had faded into an ugly yellow giving him a sickly appearance.

For a period of time he just stared blankly ahead while he adjusted to the bright morning light filtering in from the window. He eventually convinced himself that he had better things to do with his morning than stare at his own disheveled reflection, and he fumbled his way towards the bathroom to wash up and brush his teeth. Once presentable, it was time to face the day.

Upon opening the door to the main room he was met with a pile a clothes thrown into his face so forcefully he actually stumbled back a couple steps.

"What the he-"

"Get changed. You've been living in those clothes for days. I hope you didn't sleep in the bed in those things. They're disgusting."

A blush spread across his cheeks. Any argument he had prepared died on his tongue at the sight of the bemused expression on the blue assassin's face, arms crossed and hip cocked.

"Fiiine," he grumbled, throwing his head back dramatically and turning back into his temporary bedroom to get changed. The clean clothes were honestly not an entirely unwelcome change from his sweaty, sticky outfit, even if they weren't exactly his normal style. The inky black pants were made of some sort of heavy silk that gave him the feeling of wearing pajamas rather than real clothes, and the oversized gold shirt was embroidered in an odd pattern with maroon glass beads that matched the furniture. It was hideous. He hated it.

Stepping back out into the main room he gathered that Nebula felt much the same way, as she failed to completely hide a snicker behind a mug clasped in her hands.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." He retorted, tugging his jacket on over the outfit self consciously. "What about your clothes? Aren't they dirty, too?"

"My suit is comprised of a specialized material and maintained by nanobots. It doesn't get filthy." She looked much too smug about this for Peter's liking, leaning over the kitchen bar to grin over her mug at him.

"Well, Lucky you. Where's the washing machine? Not that I don't love this new look, but I'd like to get back into my own clothes sooner rather than later, thank you."

"Just leave them on the bed," she said with a dismissive wave. "Someone will be in to clean them. Or incinerate them."

Peter just glared at her as he slipped into the kitchen to fill up his own mug of the Sakaar equivalent of coffee. Admittedly It was pretty good. It had a pleasant aroma and he found that he didn't have to mix in much of the sugar or dried creamer set out on the counter to enjoy it.

"So what's the news on the Contest of Champions?" he asked tentatively. His optimism from yesterday was now a heavy mix of hope and dread swirling around in the pit of his stomach. What if it wasn't Drax after all? And even if it was, what would have become of his friend in this place? Sure he was undefeated, but that didn't exactly mean he was unharmed.

"The next tournament will be held tonight as soon as the sun sets. We'll be joining the Grandmaster as his honored guests in his viewing room."

Peter nodded and swirled his drink around in his hands. Sunset seemed so far away right now.

"In the mean time I have some more arrangements to make. I trust you can keep yourself out of trouble for another day?"

-x-

'Keeping himself out of trouble' found Peter browsing through some sort of a bazaar down on the streets. Mostly he kept himself entertained just window shopping and stopping occasionally to ask more questions about the wares sold by some of the more attractive saleswomen.

After dropping off a large bag full of delicious smelling sweetbreads and candies -and one sparkling silver bracelet with a little gold sword charm wrapped up in paper that a salesperson had rather easily conned him into paying an outrageous price for after it reminded him painfully of Gamora-, he checked the time to find he still had a couple hours before sunset and left the room again to make his way back to that tavern from yesterday. It seemed as nice a place as any to kill the rest of the time until he had to meet up with Nebula and the Grandmaster.

The tavern was much quieter this evening. The patrons murmured contentedly across their tables, hunched over their drinks and picking at hot meals between them. His friend the scrapper didn't appear to be here this evening, so Peter made himself cozy with a cold drink at the bar corner and just soaked in the atmosphere as he waited. He'd been hoping to ask her a few more questions about the games and the so called champion, but instead he settled for listening to the idle gossip of people discussing upcoming games and placing bets, occasionally asking a question from a more friendly looking neighbor.

From what he gathered, the games mostly consisted of several shorter fights which were geared more towards incapacitating an opponent and rarely included fatalities. There were several 'favorites' among these games who had been battling for years, and were quite likely to stay alive as long as the people still found them entertaining. Then there were occasional 'tournaments' which sounded much more brutal and bloody. Death wasn't a guarantee, but it was a pretty common occurrence to place bets on the decapitation or dismemberment of these competitors. Finally, there was the Championship matches where a contender could challenge the current reigning champion to a one on one battle. It was battle to the death, and if the contender won they could earn their freedom from the tournament. No one had won their freedom in a very very long time.

Time slipped away in a heady blur and before he knew it, Peter found himself standing in a skybox overlooking a dirt arena so large one could land a small flight of Nova ships with room left over for a couple battle vessels. The box was furnished comfortably with a long couch and several chairs, all facing out a window which was so impeccably clean and clear he could practically smell the sweaty crowd below them. Peter had his palms and forehead pressed up against this glass as he watched the games below.

The smaller fights had almost been entertaining, if one forgot they were watching prisoners and slaves. The combatants displayed a wide array of skills and techniques from all across the galaxies, some wielding weapons that he had never even heard of before. Some of the later battles, however, left him squirming uncomfortably. He'd never had the stomach for bloodsport, despite some of the Ravager crew's best attempts to turn him. Still, like an eager dog staring out at the empty mailbox on a Sunday, he couldn't look away for fear he would somehow miss a glimpse of Drax.

Nebula appeared in all ways unfazed by any of this; reclining on one corner of the couch with her arms crossed loosely, one knee thrown over the other.

Eventually the arena lights dimmed and an expectant hush fell over the crowd.

"Oh! That's my cue!" The Grandmaster leapt up from the far side of the couch, rubbing his hands together in excitement as Topaz handed him a microphone.

"Lllllllllladies and Gentlemeeen!" A gigantic holographic Grandmaster erupted over the stadium. "Welcome! To the one-hundred and fifty-SEVENTH challenge match against your current reigning champiooooooooon!"

The crowd roared to life all around them, making the floor beneath Peter's feet vibrate as they stamped and screamed.

"Our challenger of the night is none other than Artrax the Disem _bowler_!" A solitary mint green figure stepped out of one side of the arena while another wave of excited whooping rolled over the crowd. "You know the rules; Two gladiators may enter, but only one may leave! Who. Will. It. BE!?"

Peter had to admit the man had a flare for showmanship. The citizens around them ate up his words, and he found himself bouncing on the balls of his feet, eagerly awaiting the appearance of the champion. This was it. Either it was Drax or it wasn't.

"Oh ho! Here he comes! This is it folks! You know him! You love him! It's the one-the only-THE DESTROYER!" The whooping was deafening even through the thick glass as the heavy doors on the far side of the arena opened. Peter smashed his face against the window as he strained to get a look at the Champion.

Out of the darkness strolled a large and imposing figure. His head was covered in a thick brass helmet, and a big ugly scar cut across his right shoulder like a jagged lightning bolt, but the swirling red tattoos dancing across his stubbornly bare chest were a dead giveaway. Before he realized what he was doing, Peter found himself whooping and cheering along with the crowd. He couldn't believe his luck. He thought he'd have to travel halfway across the galaxy to find his friends but here was Drax, so close he could watch his muscles ripple as he waved around the wicked looking short sword in his right hand.

A cheer caught in his throat as the curved edge of the blade flashed in the stadium lights. He was so swept up in the relief of finding his friend, that he had forgotten what this meant. What had the Grandmaster just said? 157th challenger? Did that mean Drax had killed 156 other challengers on this field? All of them prisoners just trying to fight for their freedom from this slave pit? The deep dark wrongness that had gripped him way back when he had first awoken on the wrong version of his Milano made another appearance. He wanted to grab the Grandmaster and demand he stop the match right then and there, but his body remained frozen where it was, eyes glued to the arena as the challenger hurdled themselves at Drax, a long red spear gripped tightly in two of his four arms.

The match was long and brutal. Peter had seen Drax fight in many battles, usually the maniac was shielding his back or standing shoulder to shoulder with him as he used his greater strength to pick off any foes who got past Peter's long range weapons. While his Drax had always fought with the same cold efficiency that tore through most opponents in a matter of seconds, the champion down in the pit toyed with his challenger. As Peter watched, Drax passed on several killing blows, turning his sharp blade at the last second so that his opponent was instead batted away with the blunt side, and laughing at them as they struggled to right themselves and try again. It was like watching a cat toy with a mouse. Letting it go and catching it again over and over.

Sure, his Drax had never had any qualms with violence. In fact it was his first solution to everything, and yes, he had murdered uncountable aliens both before and after his associations with the Guardians, but he had always been swift and deliberate with the killing its self. And he had even refused on several occasions to fight opponents who he deemed too weak to be an honorable battle or who had not personally slighted him in some way. Drax was violent but he had his own code of honor to prevent this kind of cruelty. Peter had never seen him take quite so much enjoyment out of watching an opponent who had done nothing especially wrong crawl about in the dirt and suffer.

Eventually Artrax could no longer stand, crawling desperately across the bloody arena on his knees and remaining three arms. Hacking and wheezing, he hardly even seemed to notice as Drax strolled up to him, raising his short blade above the green alien's head and pausing as the crowd around them lost their minds in excitement before plunging it straight into his opponent's skull, ending the match.

Trinkets and flowers were showered into the arena by the adoring fans as Drax swaggered his way back into the doorway which had reopened upon his victory. It was only after the shadows had entirely swallowed him up that Peter could tear his eyes away from the arena and glance around the skybox. He first turned to Nebula who was still reclined on the couch as she had been before the match, staring down her nose into the field below with a thoughtful expression. When she offered no help or answers to his swirling mind he sought out the eyes of the Grandmaster instead, but he was busy sipping something carbonated out of a delicate wineglass and discussing the battles with his crowd of friends in an airy tone as though they had just watched a delightful play, and not witnessed the same atrocities below.

-x-

"So that was your companion?" Nebula's voice broke through the silence that had reined over the pair since leaving the arena. They had just returned to their rooms and Peter had spent the whole walk with his shoulders hunched and staring at his feet while he tried to make sense of this new information.

"Yeah. That was Drax." His voice sounded hollow and paper thin even to his own ears.

"He is a skilled fighter. That much was obvious even against his unskilled opponent. I can see why you would believe him to be an asset." Peter winced again at the mention of the unskilled opponent.

"Yeah." He had been so excited at the prospect of meeting his friend just a couple of hours ago that he could hardly even wait, and now he was almost dreading what he would find up close.

"So when can we see him?" he asked in something just above a mummer.

"I have already arranged a meeting for the morning. As far the Grandmaster is to be concerned we will be accosting this Champion of his for my father's army."

"Great. I'll see you in the morning I guess." He gave her a half-hearted wave and retreated into his room, barely bothering to take off his coat and shove the folded pile of his now cleaned clothes out of the way before crawling under the covers and willing himself to go to sleep.

-x-

The next morning he was relieved to be back in his regular, much less sticky and smelly clothes. In fact, they were cleaner now then he could ever recall them being since first purchasing them. As he adjusted his shirt and pulled his leather jacket on he made a mental note to stock some of whatever laundry soap they used here onto his ship before they left. It even smelled crisp and clean and not at all like the heavy perfumes of the locals like he had feared it would.

With the return of his clothes, Peter found a return of some of his usual optimism as well. He'd found Drax and that's what was important. So what if he was little extra violent? He had managed to convince the maniac to curb some of his enthusiasm over the matter before, surely he could do it again?

With that in mind Peter steeled himself and made his way to the kitchen to rummage up some sort of breakfast. As usual, Nebula was already there, leaning against the counter with a mug set off to her left. A pile of papers were strewn about in front of her while she studied what appeared to be an old star map.

"What's that for?" he asked, pouring himself his own mug of fresh coffee and pulling a bowl down from one of the cabinets.

"It's a map of the Blackmoon Quadrant. Once we gather your friend and leave this place we'll want to find somewhere outside of Thanos's reach."

Peter nodded his head as he poured something like cereal into his bowl and grabbed a spoon from a nearby drawer, intending to eat his snack dry. He had learned long ago to not trust the many versions of milk the galaxies had to offer.

"I think I have an idea about that, actually. I know of a place that's pretty far off of everyone's maps that might be a great place to look for information about the rest of my team."

Nebula didn't answer outright, but she did look up from the map in her hands to give him her attention.

"It's a place called Knowhere. It used to be some sort of mining colony, but now it's like a back-alley smuggler type of place, so I doubt it's anywhere on Thanos's to-do list."

"I know that place," she muttered. "I've been through there a few times for information, but Thanos holds no sway that far out and I doubt he will think to look for us there."

"So it's settled then," Peter said, perking up now that he had a clear plan set out before him. "We grab Drax, give this place the slip, and head straight to Knowhere."

Nebula just made a noncommittal grunt as she leafed through the pile of papers, pulling out a new map that she spread out on the island between them. It seemed to be a representation of the planet they were on. A small dark blob in the center boldly labeled 'Sakaar' in a flowing print. The rest of the map was filled with a topograph of the dunes of trash that they had first entered from, the holes through which the garbage perpetually fell seemed to be represented by fanciful swirls superimposed over the land.

"These are the gateways that lead directly from Sakaar into various points throughout the universe," she told him, pointing towards one close to the center. "This is the one we came through."

Peter nodded as he leaned over to get a better view. Her finger slid across the map stopping on a smaller swirl on the very edge.

"This one will get us the closest to Knowhere. From there it will just be a few jumps."

"Sounds like a plan." He grinned, leaning back on the counter behind him to enjoy his breakfast. "When are we leaving?"

"Your ship should be fully repaired some time tomorrow morning. It has already be stocked with basic provisions. I suggest you gather all of your things by then, Star-lord."

"Peter."

"What?"

"My name is Peter Quill." When he looked up from his bowl Nebula was staring back over the island at him suspiciously. "It's just, I figure if we're going to be hiding out from Thanos for now it would be best not to go by Star-lord for a while," he muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Peter, then," she agreed, something in her expression softening almost imperceptibly. "Make sure you're ready to go by tomorrow."

-x-

When breakfast was finished and the maps had been tucked away into Nebula's room, Peter made his way down to the stadium once more. He had decided it was probably better that he met with Drax alone. This time, he entered through a dingy copper door rather than the extravagant elevator from the night before, and into an apartment-like building that was constructed against the far side of the coliseum wall. Another elevator took him up and dumped him directly into a large airy apartment on the top level.

Peter sauntered into the large space with an appreciative whistle. The decor here was a bit less extravagant than in his and Nebula's suite, but it felt more homey. An oversized hallway lead him into a larger main room with a plush king-sized bed pressed up against one wall, and what looked to be a hot-tub. No fair! His room didn't have a hot-tub.

To his right was a massive window that looked down on the city, and silhouetted against the late morning light was the unmistakable hulking shoulders of just the man he was looking for.

"Drax! Hey buddy!" Peter cried with a huge, toothy grin. He had to remind himself that this Drax would likely not know who he was, and so running up and clasping him on the shoulder was more likely to turn him into a smudge on that window than earn him any favors.

The silhouette crossed its arms and stepped away from the bright window, details fading into focus as Peter's eyes adjusted to the change in contrast.

"I am Drax The Destroyer, who dares address me with such familiarity?"

"Hi, I'm Peter Quill. You might not remember me, but I assure you we're going to be great friends. I'm here to bust you out of this place." Peter puffed out his chest and placed his hands on his hips, doing his best Star-lord pose.

Drax's response to that was to throw his head back in laughter, causing Peter to deflate slightly. That wasn't quite the reaction he was hoping to inspire here.

"I do not need to be 'busted out' of this place." Drax laughed, holding his stomach loosely as he bent forward as though Peter had just shared with him a wonderful joke. "I could break these walls easily on my own!"

"That's... That's not what I meant. Come on man. You know what I meant. I'm here to help you escape, so you can help me take down Thanos."

The laughter came to a sudden halt. A darkness overtook the Destroyer's face, eclipsing out the humor from only a heartbeat before.

"Do not mention that name here." He warned, stepping forward again to tower over Peter. "And I have no intentions of leaving this place. There is nothing left for me outside of the arena."

Peter took an unconscious step back. He had forgotten how imposing Drax could be. They had been partners for a long time, and perhaps Peter had taken it for granted that the maniac had never meant him any true bodily harm. This Drax didn't know that they were friends and so would have no similar aversion to harming him. This made things a bit trickier for Peter who had, stupidly, come unarmed.

"Look, I don't want any trouble here, man. Just take it easy. How did you come to this place anyways?" Maybe if he could get some answers he could find a way to reason with him.

Drax relented slightly at Peter's surrender, stepping back and relaxing his shoulders but still staring at his visitor through narrowed eyes. "When the _Titan_ -" Peter had heard many beings curse and spit out that word in varying levels of hatred and disgust over the years, but the venom with which Drax spat it out would have made even Nebula proud. "-took my home world, he sent Ronan to do his dirty work. That filthy Kree bastard slaughtered my people. He _killed my family_ and I could do nothing to stop him. Those few who survived were enslaved. I was sent here to die on this filthy planet in the middle of nowhere, but I tore apart every challenger they set before me."

Peter could vividly imagine the man standing in front of him, desperate and wounded, taking out all of his rage and agony on his opponents in that field. It was not a pretty thought.

"Now I am the Champion," he hissed through clenched teeth. "The Destroyer. Because that is the only thing I can do. Destroy. I could not save anyone. This is where I belong." As he spoke he held his hands up, staring at his palms as though blaming them for the loss of his loved ones.

For some time Peter was stunned speechless. The only sound in the big empty room was the harsh breathing of The Destroyer as he clenched and unclenched his hands.

"Drax." Peter's voice was soft as he tried another tactic. "I know. I know that nothing anyone can say or do will bring back your family, but, if you come with me we can stop them from doing it to other families-"

" _I do not care about other families_." He was cut off harshly.

"Yes you do. I know you do," Peter pressed. He was getting frustrated by Drax's apparent complacency in all of this. How could he want to stay here? This wasn't right.

"NO I DON'T!" Drax roared back, stepping into Peter as the smaller man hastily retreated. "I don't care if they slaughter every other family in the universe because my _Hovat_ is GONE! My _Kamaria_ is ****GONE****!"

The coat tail of his duster caught on the sole of Peter's boot and he landed hard on his ass, scrambling back another pace as Drax's voice broke over the name of his daughter. As Peter lifted his hand to shield his face from whatever was coming next the larger man suddenly stopped, his shoulders slumping and his eyes sliding back to his empty hands.

"I should have died with them," he rasped out.

Just as suddenly as the rage had possessed him it had vanished, leaving the warrior looking lost and deflated as he turned and made his way back towards the bed, sitting down on it with a heavy sigh.

Slowly, cautiously, Peter got back to his feet. Drax gave no indication of even being aware that his guest was still here, and Peter chewed on his lip as he considered the wisdom of just retreating to the elevator and coming back to try again later once he had had some time to re-collect himself. But honestly, what good would that do? Later, Drax's family would still be gone. Later, he would be no closer to convincing this broken man to move past his grief and help him; he would only be closer to the next tournament.

Like a spooked deer Peter picked his way across the room, eyes not leaving the still and silent form of his friend. Watching carefully for any warning signs in the grieving man's posture, the outlaw slowly lowered himself onto the bed as well.

"I'm sorry."

Still nothing. But nothing was better than the violent threats of before.

"There is nothing I can do to bring them back." Peter opened his own hands in front of him, mimicking Drax's desolate pose. "And I know that there is no replacing them, either. And I know this is going to sound insane but you told me about them once, and I know that wasting away here in this honorless pit isn't what they would have wanted for you."

Something stirred in Drax and Peter paused briefly to gauge whether or not it was safe to continue.

"In another universe you and I were friends. We- and our other friends- held an Infinity Stone and we killed Ronan the Accuser during his assault on Xandar. You killed Ronan and took revenge for your family. I don't know how, but I woke up in this universe where apparently that never happened. My friend and I are getting off this planet tomorrow morning, and we are going to gather the rest of my -our- team and set this straight, but we need you if we're going to take on Ronan again."

"..."

"Well? What do you think?"

"I think you are mad."

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped by Drax holding up one palm.

"But, I also think that you are right. I have moped here on this planet for far too long. It is time to make Ronan suffer as he has made me suffer, and if the only way to do that is to put up with your madness then so be it."

"Oh, uh. Thanks. I think." Well, it wasn't ideal, but Drax was agreeing to come with them and Peter decided to just focus on that victory for now.

"So where is this friend of yours? I hope they are a more fearsome warrior than you." His words were harsh, but Peter could hear a touch of the old Drax's humor shining through.

"Actually, about that..."

-x-

"CUR OF THANOS!"

"MEATHEADED PITSWINE!"

Honestly, this meeting was going better than Peter had dared hoped. Everyone still had all of their limbs, and most of the furniture was still intact. There would be no saving the poor Sakaarian coffee maker that Nebula had hurtled into the wall, missing Drax's head by a centimeter at best, and half of the stools from the bar had been reduced to some very expensive kindling.

Nebula and Drax were now stalking each other around the open living room like a pair of angry cats. He almost expected them to start hunching their backs and hissing at each other. Peter stood between them, hands held up and spinning with them as he tried to keep them both in his sight at the same time.

"Come on guys, this is getting us nowhere. Let's sit down and talk this out like adults." He barely ducked in time to miss being decapitated by the love seat as it sailed across the room. "DRAX! That is not how polite conversation works!"

"Crawl back to your master's feet! Hound of the Titan!"

"Did the Orloni eat out whatever pitiful brains you had down in that pit!?"

"ENOUGH!"

The earsplitting scream seemed to gather at least some attention as they both paused in their pacing to glare at him instead. "Look. We all hate Thanos here, Okay? We're all on the same side, with the same goal, so can we please stop trying to kill each other long enough to achieve that?"

"I don't know what you were thinking recruiting this idiot." Nebula hissed at him, pointing an accusing finger at the large man across the room. "I have no desire to be crammed onto your undersized ship with _him_."

"Oh, come on-"

"The blue bitch finally speaks sense. Surely we would not all even fit on an undersized ship."

"Drax, that's not-It's not helping," he groaned hopelessly.

"Come, Peter Quill." Nebula suddenly straightened up and slipped her daggers back into their hilts. "Surely we don't need this... Destroyer. Let's leave this place already and gather the rest of your team. They can't be any less reasonable than this."

Peter had his doubts about that last statement but wisely kept his mouth shut on the matter.

"Fine," Drax snorted. "Go without me! Ronan will tear you two apart."

"See, now he's making a good point. We need allies if we're going to do this."

Nebula looked for a moment like she was ready to just storm out the door, accost his ship, and leave both him and Drax stranded on this planet without her. Instead she made a very undignified noise and stomped one of her feet as though it physically pained her to relent.

"Fine. We will take him with us, but if he so much as points his hideous swords at me I will take his head off."

"I would like to see you try, you-"

"NO!" Peter was going to be lucky to have any voice left at all by tomorrow. "No. Nobody is decapitating anybody, okay?"

"What about Ronan?" Drax asked, turning a perplexed look on Peter even as he relaxed his grip on his own twin blades and straightened to a more normal stance.

"What?"

"Can we not still decapitate Ronan? That was how I planning to kill him. I was going to mount his head on a pole and wave it about for all to see."

"That's horrible. But yes, you can still decapitate him, I guess."

"Then why would you say that-"

"Just- don't kill me or Nebula, Okay?"

"I will try."

"Good."

"But I make no promises."

Peter was going to cry. He was going to have a breakdown in front of the two least warm and comforting beings in the entire galaxy.

Taking a deep breath to center himself as Gamora had taught him, Peter turned to Nebula to ask her for a similar almost-but-not-really-a-promise. He was interrupted, however, by a sudden knocking on the door. Oh great. Just what he needed right now; angry neighbors complaining about the noise levels.

Shooting Drax and Nebula each a warning glare, Peter carefully picked his way across the room through the remains of the furniture.

"Look, I'm sorry about the noise. It's over now, I promise," He offered in his best apologetic voice as he pulled open the door, blocking the wreckage inside as best he could with his body.

The Grandmaster himself stood in the doorway, giving Peter a rather obviously forced grin. "Oh, hello... you."

"Grandmaster?" He asked as the extravagantly dressed man shoved past him and into the room, wiping the hand that had touched Peter's shirt off with a white handkerchief that Topaz handed him.

"Is my ship prepared yet?" Nebula asked, stepping forward, entirely unrepentant about the trashed room. "My father hates to be kept waiting."

"Yeah, about that..." The Grandmaster muttered, handing the handkerchief back to Topaz. "You see, I was quite upset about the prospect of losing my most beloved champion, so, you wouldn't be- _lieve_  my relief when I get a message from none other than The Mad Titan himself." Oh flark. Nebula visibly stiffened.

"It seems he didn't send you here for the champion after all. In fact, it seems like it's you he's after. He even sent you your own personal escort for the trip back." As he spoke a team of Kree soldiers dressed in heavy black armor streamed through the doorway and stood at attention. A dark skinned Kree man in matching black armor, but with obvious augmentations implanted in his helmet-less skull stepped through the door after them.

"Hello sister," the man greeted Nebula, ignoring everyone else in the room.

"Hello. Korath."

****End** **

  
**Chapter 5 Teaser:** ... _Ships of all makes hung in their bays, gleaming under the bright lights from high above. Everything from personal shuttles to a hulking luxury cruiser, all polished and maintained with obvious dedication. For a moment peter was so stunned by this collection of beauties that he forgot all about about the dire situation he was it. Nebula's sharp voice cut through his slack-jawed stupor.  
"Keep up or I will leave you here to Korath's mercies!" Peter found he believed her wholeheartedly and hurried to catch up_...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go. Peter and Nebula are slowly becoming closer to eachother. Nebula called him Peter twice in this chapter, and Peter called her his 'friend' twice as well. Drax is back! But he's not quite the Drax we know. In the movie we get to meet him after his rampage has cooled some and he has decided to move towards his revenge, here I wanted to meet a Drax who was still stuck in grieving and using the games as a way to escape facing the reality of his pain. His and Nebula's meeting made me so happy! I hope you enjoyed that scene as much as I enjoyed making it. That poor coffee maker, though. It served them so well. And suprise! Korath's here. You have no idea how hard it was not to have the last words of the chapter be "Hey Brother." but it felt too informal for our angry, socially inept, little assasin.  
> This was a very emotional chapter. The characters swung back and forth from humor to dread to anger to sorrow so much it was crazy. I hope I made the transitions easy and believable for you guys. Some of it felt too fast for me but I didn't know how to slow it down without making it boring. To be honest, I did very little editing on this chapter. Work was crazy and I couldn't seem to focus on the text at all. I just found myself reading the conversations over and over again, wanting to improve them but not knowing how. It was wasting time that I could have been working on the next chapter so I just fixed a few sentences that fell too flat and some spelling errors and called it good. 
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read!


	5. Things Are Gonna get Easier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korath is here, and he brought a couple of unwelcome surprises with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. This chapter was actually finished about a week ago, but I was waffling over some formatting choices. This chapter wound up being a lot longer than I had intended and I almost broke it up into two separate Chapters, but I just like the flow a lot better this way.
> 
> ALSO! I will be adding a one-shot side story from a scene that Peter makes a reference to in this chapter! It can be read as a stand-alone, and just didn't fit anywhere in the text, so I will be uploading it as it's own separate but related work. Please feel free to check it out after you finish this chapter!
> 
> As usual, all characters and the original story belongs to Marvel, this is purely a fan-work written for enjoyment.

****Chapter 5: Thing's are Gonna Get Easier** **   
  


Thanos's children were nothing if not efficient. They had hardly even acknowledged each other before Korath was raising his blaster and taking deadly aim at his sister. Nebula dodged the first blast, dropping into a roll and slinging one of her knives straight into the barrel of his blaster before she slipped away through the doorway to her bedroom.

Korath flung his now useless weapon away, grabbing a smaller hand gun type weapon from a holster on his hip and charged in after her. The Kree soldiers moved to follow but were forced to fall back and scatter when Drax, apparently on their side for now, although it could just be that he was happy for any excuse to partake in violence, flung the fancy mahogany table across the room like an oversized frisbee.

Peter's blasters were still sitting uselessly on his bed where he had left them that morning, so while the soldiers scrambled out of the way and Topaz hurriedly bundled the Grandmaster from the room, he darted forward and snatched up Korath's discarded weapon, ripping Nebula's dagger from its barrel.

"Grab him!" someone screamed from across the room, "Thanos wants him alive."

"Oh flark," he hissed, diving over the closest couch and firing up the very mean looking Kree blaster in his hands. "Please don't blow up," he pleaded, aiming at one of the closest soldiers and squeezing the trigger when the bar of soft pink light on the side filled up.

Whatever this weapon was, it had one hell of a kick, tossing Peter back and firing wildly into the ceiling instead of what he had been aiming for. Dazed and slightly winded, Peter groaned and tried to roll over onto his stomach. He was pretty sure he could hear Drax laughing at him through the ringing in his ears.

As the world regained focus, he felt a gloved hand grab the back of his coat and yank him up but was promptly dropped back to the floor when Drax ripped the Kree soldier off of him, flinging them like a rag-doll across the room. There was a terrible crunch when they smacked against the bar counter, folding awkwardly against it before slumping lifelessly to the floor. The other soldiers fell back a few paces, creating some space between themselves and those formidable fists, taking aim with their guns as they spread out to circle the room.

"Here!" Peter shouted, rolling to his feet and tossing Drax the heavy blaster. "Cover me."

With Nebula's dagger gripped tight in one hand, Peter scuttled across the empty space between the couch and the doorway to his own room. Several purple beams burnt ugly holes into the carpet under his feet as he ran, but judging by the sounds of the loud crashes and Drax's continued laughter behind him, the soldiers had their hands too full to really focus on him, so he pushed forward. He made it to his room with only a few singed hairs, shoving Nebula's blade into his boot for safekeeping and snatching his Quad-blasters from the bed. A wave of relief washed over him as he balanced their familiar weight in his hands. A chorus of screeches and another, much louder crash from the main room hailed the untimely end of one of the big plush couches.

Almost as an afterthought, Peter grabbed the bag he'd brought back from the market the night before, slightly lighter after a day and a half of snacking, and slung it over his shoulder before heading back out. In the brief time that Peter had been gone Drax had reduced the swarm of Kree soldiers into a small cluster of three survivors who were firing at him from behind the kitchen island, and another pair who were clearly having a terrible time trying to engage him up close without being gutted by the maniac's twin blades. Peter raised one of his twin blasters at the trio in the kitchen, but before he could squeeze the trigger something heavy collided into his side and sent him tumbling across the floor.

A string of colorful curses filled his ears as Nebula scrambled off of him, ripping one of Peter's blasters out of his hand and firing it at Korath as he charged after them, forcing her brother to duck behind the last couch.

"Let's go!" she commanded, grabbing the back of Peter's coat and yanking him roughly to his feet.

"What? But we're winning!" he protested as he was hauled towards the door like a child.

"This pitiful display isn't all Korath brought with him." Almost as though summoned by that thought a great humming filled the room and a heavily weaponized Kree ship pulled into view of the large window across the suite.

"Oh, shit. Time to leave, Drax!" Peter yelped, ripping free from Nebula's grip and firing at the soldiers in the kitchen with his remaining blaster as he and the assassin made a break for the front door. Drax flung off his attackers and thundered after them.

Out in the hallway Nebula lead them straight to a service elevator around the corner.

"Here. This will lead to the bay where the ships are docked." As she spoke Drax slammed his shoulder into the door, slipping his fingers through the gap he created and ripping it off with a roar. Nebula wasted no time in ducking under his arms and leaping straight down the dark shaft. With a joyous laugh, as though this was all some sort of silly game, -and perhaps to him it was- Drax leaped in afterwords.

Peter hesitated just long enough to activate his mask and check the boosters on his boots before following as well. The sounds of thundering boots and angry shouts from down the hallway faded as he free-fell feet first into the darkness, the night vision on his mask the only way he could see the walls and avoid activating his boots too late. How Drax and Nebula navigated the dark descent so deftly was beyond him. After an uncomfortably long drop he spotted his two companions; Drax was holding on to the supports on the sides of the shaft while working to pry open a set of doors that Nebula had indicated with the blaster she still hadn't returned to Peter, her other hand was holding herself up with the dagger that she had buried into the elevator shaft's walls.

Peter activated his boots, slowing his decent and struggling to remain upright in the narrow space. They were designed more for propelling him in space and helping him across gaps than for hovering in one narrow place for an extended period of time. He always felt much like a child learning to stand in skates for the first time. Luckily, Drax made short work of this door as well and they all spilled onto the new floor before Peter face-planted into the metal siding.

The new room they found themselves in was a spacious hangar of sorts. Ships of all makes hung in their bays, gleaming under the bright lights from high above. Everything from personal shuttles to a hulking luxury cruiser, all polished and maintained with obvious dedication. For a moment peter was so stunned by this collection of beauties that he forgot all about about the dire situation he was in. Nebula's sharp voice cut through his slack-jawed stupor.

"Keep up or I will leave you here to Korath's mercies!" Peter found he believed her wholeheartedly and hurried to catch up.

They jogged down the main-way past a number of ships that would have left Rocket drooling before the familiar shape of his beloved Milano came into view. Peter couldn't help the low whistle which only earned him a quick elbow to the gut and pointed look from the assassin, pressing a finger to her lips before approaching some sort of control console. Whoever was in charge of this bay had taken very good care of his baby. The dents and scrapes from Nebula's brief but brutal bout at the wheel were gone without a trace. They must have replaced entire panels, yet he couldn't find any obvious spots where they would have been welded on. Someone must have stripped and repainted it as well, as it practically glimmered like a showroom model.

Several large electrical cords snaked across the hangar floor and connected to an open panel on the underside of his ship. While Nebula busied herself typing commands into the screen before her, Peter worked to disconnect the cables from the ship. Drax took a position guarding their backs, Korath's damaged weapon still held in his arms. It was almost like having his team back.

A triumphant shout from behind him signaled Nebula's victory over the security system as the hangar's lights briefly dimmed and the low rumble of a bay door opening washed over them. The Milano lit up as well, the entrance ramp dropping down for them to board. Nebula barely waited for the ramp to settle on the ground before darting on, Peter and Drax hot on her heels as she vaulted up the ladder and started up the engines.

"Uh uh!" Peter shouted, scrambling to shove her out of the pilot's chair with his body and yanking the control's away. "I'm driving this time! You're the reason we wound up stranded on this trash planet!"

The assassin hit the cabin floor with an angry grunt. Her rebuttal probably would have been both swift and brutal if a loud explosion had not sent the Milano rocking and shuddering just then.

"They have located us." Drax informed them helpfully, pointing out the window over the smoking remains of the neighboring shuttle at a swarm of Kree fighters streaming into the still opening doors.

"Son of a Karlaxian whore," she hissed out instead, turning her ire back to their common enemy.

Peter guided the Milano off the floor with one hand while activating the shields and weapons system with his other.

"Let's give these party crashers something to think about." The weapons systems chirruped and lit up and Nebula and Drax slipped into the remaining two seats, strapping themselves in.

"Surely you do not consider what we were doing before they appeared a party?" Drax asked from behind him with a note of worry in his tone. Peter was too busy grinning to correct him. It had been less than a week since his disturbing awakening on the wrong Milano, but he had missed his team terribly. Even while under heavy fire, Drax's inability to understand his metaphor or to let it pass unchallenged was like a balm for his rattled soul.

Escaping the Grandmaster's showroom was a bit of a challenge, and more than a few beautiful ships paid the ultimate price as the M-ship ducked and weaved through them for cover.

They skirted their way around one last cruiser and then it was just a sprint across an open gap and through the hangar door. Peter punched the gas and Nebula deftly shot down any enemy ships who dared venture too close. Drax's shots were slightly less refined, but they made up for it with ruthlessness and vigor, reigning down an unpredictable barrage that often caught the ships trying to dodge Nebula's more carefully aimed blasts.

As they shot out into the open sky with one final roll Peter was feeling pretty good. That feeling was quickly swallowed back down when waiting just outside for them was the heavily weaponized ship he'd seen through the apartment window. The cannon on its hull blinking a bright pink was their only warning before a hard bank to the left was the only thing that kept them from becoming just more rubble raining from the sky.

"That's a K-Class Kree Warbird," Nebula supplied from beside him. "Your undersized vessel doesn't have the weapons, or the shields, to take it on."

"Yeah, I got that feeling," Peter muttered back, urging his ship faster as they slipped between the taller buildings. Mercifully, the large cannon seemed to have a long charge time. The smaller Kree battleships pooled from the hangar after them, like a great thunderstorm rolling over the city.

In open space his M-ship could outrun the fighter crafts any day, but here in this unfamiliar city Peter found himself taking wrong turns and yanking desperately on his controls to avoid striking into tall structures, costing them precious seconds. When the buildings grew shorter and the sky scrapers finally thinned out it was too late, the dark cloud was upon them. Nebula was a sharp shot, still stubbornly picking off the nearest crafts with her mouth set in a grim line, but there was nothing more to do as they were swallowed up whole.

The windshield was blacked out by the wings of the swarm as they were fired at directly from all sides. The shields rippled and shuddered under the assault. The lights in the cockpit dimmed slightly as power was rerouted, and a frantic alarm blared their inevitable failure.

Biting his bottom lip hard enough to bruise Peter reached to type in an override and a series of commands.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Nebula screamed when the engines suddenly cut out, all power diverted to the shields as they tumbled downward, punching through the bottom of the cloud of tiny Kree ships like a rock through a soggy paper bag.

Once free of their cage, the engines roared back to life, screaming as they righted themselves and fled for the desert. The black ships swarmed after them, but without the buildings to slow them down, the M-ship had the advantage now. From behind the storm loomed the large armored ship with the canon. The bright pink light flaring inside the barrel, pointed squarely at them, was probably a good indicator that it was ready to fire again.

"Whatever happened to taking us alive?" he grumbled as he tried to shake their aim.

"That's a pulse ray," Nebula responded. "It won't completely destroy your ship, but it will fry the circuits and leave us as easy prey." Well, that was just perfect.

"Hang on tight," he warned before rolling out of the line of fire as a large beam swept across the sky after them. A sharp banging noise and a series of low warning beeps indicated that the shot hadn't completely missed. Whatever they hit didn't seem to affect any of the critical life support systems or the engines, though, so Peter decided to worry about it later and focus on steering through the hail of fire and counting the number of rifts they passed, searching for the one that would let them out closest to Knowhere.

The waterfalls of debris afforded them some measure of cover as they swerved through the sky of trash. The shields flickered and shimmered like a tattered spider's web. The lighter fire of the fighterships would occasionally slip through the holes and ping directly against the Milano. So much for his brand new paint job.

"Why do your family reunions always have to destroy my ship?" he grumbled under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Nebula shoot him a questioning look. Oops. Too loud. Had Thanos had her ears enhanced, too? It was probably a bad time to ask. To be fair, there was probably not a good time to ask that particular question. Instead he closed his mouth and set his eyes pointedly ahead, hoping she'd forget whatever she thought she'd heard by the time they made it to some measure of safety.

It didn't come up again. The sound of the straining engines and blasts bouncing off of the Milano and her fading shields were counterpointed by Drax's occasional rumbling laughter filled the silence until the rift they were looking for came into view. It was significantly smaller than most of the other ones that they had passed, and set very high, half-hidden in some wispy clouds.

A glance at the open screens confirmed that his shields were running on fumes, but the ship its self was still in good enough shape that it could probably survive the trip through the portal even if they failed. It was going to be a bumpy ride, though.

Slipping behind one last stream of trash for cover, he banked his ship upwards, aiming straight for the swirling black and gold hole in the sky.

Hope fluttered in his chest like a nervous bird as they closed the distance. That last slip had done the trick and the remaining Kree fighters were struggling to land any sort of hit while they spilled around the torrent like a river breaking over a rock.

Peter gave a final relieved laugh and the Milano was swallowed up. The pattering of enemy fire was washed away by the rattling of time and space reforming around them. The rattling grew louder and louder as reality seemed to scream in pain, filling his ears until he thought they might burst and then all at once they were flung out into empty space on the other side. The silence out here was so absolute that if it wasn't for the soft K-thunk K-thunk of his ship's engines as they cooled, he might believe he had gone deaf in the transit.

A deep gusty sigh he hadn't even realized he had been holding in rushed out of him and Peter deflated against the controls. The notoriously fragile Kree ships would not be able to follow them through the rift without being torn apart. That Warbird, however, might make it if they could manage to squeeze its bulk through the opening. Not wanting to stick around long enough to find out he pulled up the commands for a "Jump" that would skip them closer to Knowhere and further from this wormhole to Sakaar. Two jumps so close together weren't great for the engine, but neither was being fried by a pulse ray or whatever. The systems hummed as they gathered energy and prepared to enter a nearby access point. Just as the stars around them started to flicker and shiver it sputtered out, a little [System Error] icon blipped innocently over the command prompt.

"What!?" Peter cried. Entering the command again only resulted in the error icon blinking at him insistently. "Noooooooooo," he groaned, slumping against the controls again. Was one god-damned thing not going horribly wrong really so much to ask?

"The ship was not scheduled to be released until tomorrow. It appears they hadn't bothered refueling it yet." As Nebula spoke she pointed at the fuel gauge that was an unpleasant yellow color. In all the chaos, Peter had completely missed this obvious detail. He ignored the heat rising on his cheeks, convincing himself it was just the stress of this all throwing off his groove. It was a small detail, that anyone could have missed.

With a resigned sigh he pulled up a map of their current location and settled for guiding the Milano around towards the nearest planet that they could stop and refuel on.

-x-

The closest outpost turned out to be a small lavender and white toned orb known as the planet Liljedahl. Peter had never been here before as far as he could remember, though sometimes it was hard to tell when a number of the stops the ravagers made with him as a child hadn't involved much more for him than staring at his feet and the slimy walls of the darkest back alleys, many of which started to look the same after a while.

Liljedahl was busy for such a small planet in such a far-removed system. They even had a full port. It was dated, true, and carried only the bare minimums for space travel with none of the amenities one would find on a place like Xandar, but it was a fully functioning port where they could refuel none-the-less.

It came as no real surprise that the price of fuel out here was outrageous, but Peter still found himself physically wincing as he paid over the large sum of units to have his ship filled up.

"Alright," he sighed, looking at the pitiful remnants of his account as they exited the waystation. "The Milano only has one bed, and I don't know about you guys, but I do not fancy sharing it. I think there's a couple spare inflatable mattresses stored away somewhere, but what do you say we shop around for some extra blankets and stuff while we're here? And toothbrushes. I only have the one. And I'd rather share the bed."

"I do not wish to share the bed or the toothbrush," Drax informed him with a look of disgust.

"We're agreed, then. My funds are looking a little low, though. I don't suppose you guys have anything on hand?" He looked up hopefully, but was only met with blank stares.

"I was given what I needed to accomplish my tasks by my father," Nebula informed him flatly.

"I did not need money on Sakaar," Drax said with a shrug.

"Great." Peter's shoulders slumped as he mentally bid farewell to the rest of his units.

Drax was grinning like he agreed that being provided for in exchange for being champion was great, while Nebula had her arms crossed and was staring into the passing crowd with feigned interest. Before, he would have assumed that she was disgusted by their conversation and looking for a new, less broke, teammate. Now he was pretty sure she was actually just embarrassed after having off-handedly admitted her own uselessness in this situation, so he let it go and instead wandered down the line of shops in search of a store that carried what they needed.

Much like the fuel, the blankets that they found were overpriced and not screaming of extravagance, but also like the fuel, they were the only options and they would do the job. At the very least they came in a small variety of colors and were pleasant enough to the touch, not scratchy or threatening to come undone at the seams. Drax selected a bright red one that made Peter's eyes water if he stared for too long, while Nebula snatched up a basic black one from the top of the pile. The same shop also had a section with toothbrushes and Peter picked out a green and a blue one. It would be easier to remember whose was whose that way. Something he wished the Guardians had thought of when they first started sharing the rebuilt Milano. A shudder ran through him at the unpleasant memory.

On their way back a bright neon light caught Peter's eye. The swirling pink and yellow symbols were easy to recognize as a bar chain that he had frequented on many ports throughout the years. It was surprising to find one at such a small outpost, but it was a good surprise -something of a rarity in his life.

His teammates noticed his distraction and stopped to stare back at him impatiently, the oversized paper bag in Drax's arms crinkled as he turned to frown at their lagging teammate.

"What are you doing?" Nebula asked. "We have what we came for. Let's get back to the ship so we can leave this planet."

"Hang up a sec. I'm sure we can spare a few minutes for a game or two. I'm almost out of units here, so unless you guys are going to pick up some part-time jobs this is our best meal ticket."

"Do what you will." Nebula rolled her eyes and took the paper bag that Peter had been holding into her own arms. "I am returning to the ship and planning our next course of action."

"What about you, Drax?" Peter asked, wiggling his eyebrows at the man as the assassin strode away. "I find people don't try to jip my winnings as much when I have such scary looking backup."

"No." Drax's eyes narrowed as he stared after Nebula's retreating form. "I will return to the ship as well and keep an eye on our companion to ensure she does nothing to flee or endanger the innocents."

Peter just heaved a sigh as he was left alone on the grimy sidewalk. He really hoped they wouldn't kill each other by the time he got back.

-x-

Gambling was less of a vice, and more of a basic survival skill in Peter's childhood among the stars. It was a common pastime among the ravagers - one of the very few which did not necessarily endanger his life - and he had picked the skills up with an eagerness that made Yondu slap him on the back with a proud laugh, and probably would have made his mother weep. By the time he left the tavern he had a grin on his face and more than one jacket pocket stuffed with his winnings. This day was turning around after all.

A wavering tune whistled from his lips as he sauntered down the stretch of roads leading back to the dock. Among his winnings had been a few drinks and he was feeling their effects now. Not drunk, but there was a pleasant buzzing in his body and a heat on his cheeks.

It might have been that pleasant buzz that dulled his senses enough for a couple of disgruntled thugs to get the slip on him. Or maybe it was just the universe's uncanny ability to always kick him in the nuts whenever he erred on the side of happy. Whatever the reason, he did not realize the danger he was in until a large leathery hand grabbed him and jerked him into a side alley. His scream of surprise was cut off by a smaller fist striking him in the face so hard he didn't even recall hitting the ground. A heavy boot landed on his chest, pinning him down and crushing the breath from his lungs. Through his swirling vision he recognized the pair of attackers as a couple of his unlucky benefactors of the night.

"Hey, hey. Easy now boys. I don't want any trouble here." He raised his arms in a placating gesture, and offered his best smile.

"You should have thought of that before you dragged your cheating ass into our bar," The smaller, but not exactly small, yellower alien hissed. The boot on his chest pressed a bit harder.

"Cheating!? I won fair and squ-."

The boot on his chest pressed harder, the heel grinding painfully against his sternum.

"Just shut up and take what's comin' to you,” growled out the owner of the boot.

"Okay, well. I tried the non-violent way," he shrugged. It probably would have been more impressive if he wasn't wheezing it out through constricted lungs. Without waiting for a reply he reached for the blasters at his sides. The boot on his chest suddenly retreated, smashing back down on the blaster in his left hand with a horrifying crunch. White pain exploded behind his eyes and a strangled scream escaped his throat. Something was broken. Something was definitely broken.

Another boot pressed down on his right arm as the larger red and green splattered thug ripped the blaster from his good hand, retrieving the other one as well and inspecting them with an approving grin.

"Well aren't these a nice set of toys?" he hummed, turning a curious look at the double triggers. "I wonder how they work?"

Peter's blood ran cold as wide orange eyes landed on him with malicious intent. He could hear the smaller alien giggling from his other side, but couldn't rip his own eyes away. With comical slowness the double barrels of his quad blasters were turned until he was staring up into their black depths. His favorite and most faithful weapon stared back, cold and unblinking.

"N-Now be careful with those. They're dangerous. I'd be happy to show you how they work if you just hand one over," he stammered out as he scooted backwards on his hand and elbow.

"I think I'll have more fun finding out the hard way," the speckled alien replied. His grin widened to split his face and reveal ugly yellowed teeth, and he squeezed the trigger.

When Peter was seven years old he had spent a summer vacation visiting his grandfather's farm. Like many farms, this one had a barn, and like many barns, this one had a cat who kept the mice and other vermin in check in exchange for shelter and feed in the colder months. Pest control on his grandfather's farm was run by a fuzzy black and white tom cat named Joe who always looked like someone had forgotten him in the drier for too long.

One of his clearest memories from that trip, alongside the most amazing blueberry pie he had ever had, and his first time riding in the bed of a truck, was of Joe catching a small brown mouse from the loose hay in the barn. Joe had played with that tiny terrified creature for what felt like an eternity, tossing it in the air and batting it about. When the mouse would go limp and give up Joe would just sit back and watch it, paralyzed in terror and breathing so fast it was practically vibrating, and wait until it slowly got up, thinking it had somehow survived the worst and tried to crawl away towards the hay bales. This was when Joe would pounce again, and the game would repeat until he tired of the game and finally ate his exhausted prey.

In his nearly three decades of life since leaving Earth, Peter would often find himself thinking back to that memory and imagining himself as the mouse, and the universe a fuzzy black cat crouched over him, politely waiting for him to right himself and pull his life back together just enough before pouncing again; Never truly letting him go, but never quite killing him either. Like a favorite, hard-won toy, he always somehow survived, a touch of luck at the last moment that could almost be called mercy, but was really just a cruel trick. The wind up before the next blow. Eventually, just like Joe, the universe would tire of this game.

All of these thoughts -shattered and in no particular order- flashed through his brain as, true to form, the alien had accidentally selected the 'stun' option on his blasters. Not killing him. But not saving him, either, as he thrashed about on the dirty ground, jaw locked shut and limbs trembling and contorting. The world flashed white and the tangy taste of copper flooded his senses.

When his attacker finally released the trigger Peter was left gasping like a fish, trying with varying success to pull enough oxygen into his burning lungs, and scrabbling at the ground with his arms as though afraid he would lose it to the violent spinning of the walls around them. The ringing in his ears and colorful flecks in his eyes faded slowly as the world came oozing at its own pace back into focus. Both the yellow and the red and green blurs were doubled over laughing.

As he searched thoughtlessly for a handhold on the greasy cement he felt something hard and cold pressed into his ankle. It took his sluggish mind several beats to realize that this was Nebula's knife, still tucked into his boot from their mad dash from Sakaar. He had been so busy with the ship and supplies he had forgotten to return it. He could practically weep for joy at his distracted mistake as he willed his limbs into some semblance of a working order and fumbled for the blade with his good hand. The duo didn't seem to notice right away, caught up in their laughter and probably assuming he was still just flopping about mindlessly.

With one more deep breath to steady his mind and body as best he could, Peter rolled up and threw himself straight at the larger of the two. He'd been aiming for the heart, or where the heart usually was, he wasn't entirely sure what species this guy was, but misjudged and fumbled to the side. The knife was sharp, though, and slid into the alien man's side with a sickening ease. Hot orange blood dribbled over his hand. The alien let out a horrifying screech and tried to bludgeon him off with the blasters, but his moves were frantic and sloppy and through the glancing blows Peter managed to grab a hold of them and wrestle them away.

"What the f-" The other alien had darted in to help, but froze when Peter pointed the barrels squarely at his chest.

"These things do more than just stun," he ground out through clenched teeth, his left hand throbbing in complaint at the continued abuse. "Want me to show you how to use them properly?" The smaller alien's eyes rolled white in terror before he spun and fled the alley. The larger one shouldered Peter aside as he burst past and followed after his friend, still clutching desperately at the knife and leaving flecks of orange blood splattered across the pavement as he ran. Damnit, he needed that knife back. Nebula was probably going to finish what they started when she found out he lost it to a couple of bar thugs.

As their pounding footsteps faded away, Peter slumped against the closest wall. He tucked away his left blaster as best he could before cradling his damaged hand up for inspection. His ring finger was almost definitely broken. It was already swelling up and turning an ugly deep red that was bordering on purple. He couldn't really move it, although he didn't dare try to hard, and it had a horrible ringing pain that set his teeth on edge. His middle finger and pinky were probably not broken, he hoped. They were bruised and sore, but not nearly as swollen and still listened to his commands with only minor complaints.

Feeling much like the battered and raggedy mouse that he all to often sympathized with, he stumbled his way back towards his ship, still cradling his left arm and holding his blaster ready in his right in case he had any more surprise encounters.

-x-

The trip back to his ship was uneventful, a few strange stares came his way and one kindhearted 'do you need help sir?' from a shop owner who he waved off with a thankful grin that probably came off as more of an awkward grimace.

As he dragged his boots up the loading ramp of his ship he finally let himself relax. Inside, he could hear the soft tell-tale rumble of Drax's snore. The large man was fast asleep on one of the inflatable mattresses in the corner of the main bay, one arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light. So much for keeping an eye on the deadly assassin. A small snort made its way out of him as he tried his best to tiptoe his way to his own room. About half way there a voice startled him from behind.

"What happened?" It was an innocent enough question, but Peter found his heart leaping into his throat as he nearly jumped out of his skin and tried to recover as quietly as possible. He could have screamed at her if he wasn't trying to be considerate of the person sleeping in the room. How? How did she do that?

"I'm fine," he hissed out, hugging his hand just a bit tighter, hiding it under the side of his coat. "Just had a bit of a run-in with some sore losers."

Nebula did not look the slightest bit convinced and reached forward to pry his left arm from his side. After a token protest he relented and gave it to her. The sooner he let her look at it and see it was just a broken finger the sooner he could slink off to his room to metaphorically lick his wounds. She turned his hand over a couple of times before releasing it with a small huff. Her brows were drawn together and her lips pressed into a frown.

"Where is your medical kit?"

"What?"

"Your finger is broken. You will need assistance splinting it." She spoke as if she were explaining things to a difficult child. "Where is your medical kit?"

"In the corner." He wasn't sure how to handle this quiet, non-threatening, almost concerned version of Nebula, so he just pointed at the kit up on a shelf in the corner across from Drax's makeshift bed.

The blue assassin nodded and retrieved it silently. Instead of returning, she carried it to his bedroom door, pausing to catch his eye and toss her head in a silent command before entering. Peter crept in after her, settling carefully on the edge of his bed where she was busy pulling the items she'd need from the kit and arranging them on his mattress.

Once satisfied with the items spread out between them she held out her own hand towards Peter, silently asking for his broken hand again. Cautiously he gave it to her and she pulled a small handheld scanner up to check for where the bone had fractured.

"Really, it's fine," he muttered, not sure what to do, but he never handled silence well. "I could do this myself, it's not like I've never used the medical kit before..."

"I can tell. It's a mess," She told him calmly, setting down the scanner and picking up a small brace that she carefully lined against his swollen digit, placing a pad of gauze over the other side. "This is easier." Peter winced as she picked up a roll of soft gauze next and began wrapping, starting at his finger, wrapping his sore pinky onto it for stability, and working her way down his palm and wrist. By the time she started on a second layer, Peter could hardly stop his nervous fidgeting.

As he cast his eyes around the room he noticed with a flood of relief his Walkman sitting on the end-table where he had left it for safekeeping before departing the ship. Trying not to jostle the hand in Nebula's grip, he reached out his other arm to drag it closer.

"Hold still," she admonished, but there was no characteristic fire behind it.

"Easier said than done," he grumbled, trying to control his twitching to just the bouncing of his knee as he slipped his headphones over his head one-handed and started skipping aimlessly through his Awesome Mix Volume 1.

By the time he settled into "Ooh Child" by The Five Stairsteps, his toe tapping along to the beat and his lips working silently over the familiar words, his hand was released. Peter turned the new makeshift cast over appreciatively. The outer layer was a ravager red, one of only two remaining color choices from the kit and he was thankful she had not chosen the neon pink. It made sneaking around a lot harder. The wrap job was fairly impressive. It almost looked professional. He let out a low hum.

"This is a pretty good job for, uh..." He trailed off, suddenly not sure if he should finish that sentence.

"-For someone whose bones heal themselves in a matter of seconds?" She finished for him. A guarded tone was creeping back into her voice, but hadn't made it to her face yet. "They didn't always."

"Oh, uhm, I'm sorry." He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly with his good hand. They had almost been getting along and of course he had to open his big mouth as usual.

"Don't be," She said dismissively, standing and sweeping the remaining tools back into the kit. Back to her usual all-business attitude like none of this had ever happened. "It made me stronger."

"I'm still sorry." He whispered.

It was Nebula's turn to have no answer as she finished packing away the kit and left without another word, closing the door behind her. Drax's snoring drifted through walls, and the last lines of his song played on from his headphones as he continued staring silently at the cast on his left arm.

_"...Ooh-oo child_

_Things are gonna get easier_

_Ooh-oo child_

_Things'll get brighter_

_Right now, right now_

_(You just wait and see how things are gonna be)"_

_-x-_

_A voice crackled through the radio, the interference on this planet distorting the signal._

_"Did you capture them?"_

_The captain of the Warbird watched silently as the M-ship vanished into the portal in a burst of light, the leather of the control grips creaking under their crushing grip. The useless Kree fighters banked and swirled around the portal, unable to enter so they circled it aimlessly, and would likely continue to do so until given the orders to return to their main ship. Things had not gone as planned at all._

_It would be easy to blame the failure on the sluggish battleship and its poorly calibrated disabling beam -non-lethal combat was certainly not their strong suit-, but blaming one's failures on machinery was a pathetic excuse at best. And an actionable offense at worst. Instead, they sent out the signal to regroup, leaned back in their seat, and crossed their legs._

_"No," came the eventual reply. This Star-lord must be a more formidable foe than they had prepared for. "We will regroup and discuss a new plan of action."_

_"Yes. Gamora," Korath hissed out._

_The static cut off sharply, but it was of no concern. The order had been received. Narrowed eyes turned back to the portal swirling sedately in the clouds above._

_"What are you up to sister?"_

****End** **

 

**Chapter 6 Teaser:** "... _He almost dreaded the next question, but asked it anyways._

_"Where, um, where is he?"_

_"On a planet in the Keystone quadrant." She stared resolutely through the windshield as she spoke, hands tight on the controls even though there was nothing around them and no steering to be done. "It's Known as Halfworld_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it! Woo! I hope it was a good read and you enjoyed the twist at the end. For a while I was going to break it up during the transition to Liljhedahl (Lily-ah-doll) into two separate chapters and move the end scene into a prologue between them, but I liked the emotional flow between the soft scene between Peter and Nebula and then the sudden drop into Gamora being her dark assassin self on the ship and hunting them down. I hope it came across alright. It's hard to tell when you're the one that wrote it. I guess I just hate leaving them happy at the end of a chapter. This chapter had some pretty minimal direct plot, but it should set us up nicely for some heavier stuff to come.


	6. Affirmations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the planet Liljedahl (And Nebula's dagger) fading in the distance behind them, it's time for Peter to start looking for the remaining members of his team. It's also time to start bridging the gap between Nebula and Drax. A feat much easier said than done! After all; Forgiveness is a curse word among galaxy class assassins, maniacs, and outlaws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I know everyone's excited to get to Halfworld, so I hope this chapter isn't too slow for anyone. I have a few more key elements to get in place before jumping into action again, but then it's back to explosions and violence! Whoo!
> 
> This Chapter is titled after Affirmation by Savage Garden. If you don't know the song I suggest giving it a listen. It's always been a favorite of mine and it fits my characterization of Peter and this whole chapter so well.
> 
> As usual, see the end for more specific notes. Characters and original story belong to Marvel.

** **Chapter 6: Affirmations** **

After a quick nap and a handful of painkillers Peter was up and ready to blow this two-bit waystation. It quickly became apparent, however, that his ship was not equipped for a one-handed pilot. That was how he found himself slumped low in his co-pilot's chair, arms crossed and 'sulking' as Drax had called it, while Nebula piloted his ship. Not like he was one to talk.

"Why are we traveling to this Knowhere place?" the ex-champion griped from the last seat. "We should be hunting Ronan down, not running away!"

"For the last time, we are not 'running away,' we are regrouping. There's a difference. I still need to find our other three teammates before we go doing anything stupid."

"About these teammates of yours," Nebula broke in before Drax could ask. "How exactly are you planning to locate them?"

"Well," Peter felt like 'I have no clue, I'm making this all up as I go along' was probably not the answer they were hoping for. "Knowhere seems like as good a place as any to start the search. It's a hubble of underhanded information and shady dealings, and my friends aren't exactly the subtle type, so someone there must know something that can help."

"Perhaps one of us will know something. Tell us about these friends of yours." Drax leaned forward in his chair, draping his elbow over the back of Peter's so he could look down at him.

"I guess the first would be Rocket. There's no forgetting that attitude. He's a weapon's expert, working as a bounty hunter or something when I first met him, swears like a drunk sailor, and, oh yeah, he's a raccoon."

"A what?" Drax asked, his face screwed up as though not sure if Peter was playing a joke on him or not.

"A raccoon," Peter tried again, but was only met with confused looks from both his companions. He may have hit a little snafu here. "A trash panda? ...Triangle faced monkey?"

No spark of recognition made it across their faces, so he decided to come back to that later.

"Okay how about his partner, Groot?" He thought he saw something flicker across Nebula's face at that and continued faster, staring at her intently. "A big walking tree. Like, 8 feet tall. Extremely nice, but extremely deadly. Only three words he sais are-"

"I am Groot."

Peter's face lit up at Nebula's words. "Yes! That's him! You've heard of him?" He was sitting up in his seat now, practically bouncing in place.

"I've met him," she replied. Her face was drawn and tense.

"That's great! Where did you meet him? Maybe we can track him down."

"There's no need. I know where he is." Her face had morphed into something dark and unreadable, like she was thinking about something she found particularly unpleasant and Peter got the sense he wasn't going to be keeping this elated feeling for long. He almost dreaded the next question, but asked it anyways.

"Where, um, where is he?"

"On a planet in the Keystone quadrant." She stared resolutely through the windshield as she spoke, hands tight on the controls even though there was nothing around them and no steering to be done. "It's Known as Halfworld."

"Halfworld?" Peter repeated. That didn't sound terribly familiar.

"It's a sort of research facility- Thanos uses it to test weapons and to research certain, _enhancements_ , for his soldiers. It's a closely guarded secret among his top generals."

"How do you know about this Halfworld place?"

"It's where he sent me for my last few... upgrades." Her voice had a chilly edge to it now, and she hadn't taken her eyes off of the windshield once. Even Drax seemed to be picking up on her mood and was uncharacteristically quiet.

"So, how far away is this place?" Nebula relaxed almost imperceptibly at the shift in subject.

"Not too far if we use the jumps. We could probably make it in a matter of three or four days." Three or four days sounded like an eternity, but he could hold it together for Groot.

"What is he doing there, anyways?"

"For the most part, I'm not sure. I was never too interested in their experiments. We met when my father wanted me to test out my newest enhancements against a worthy opponent." Peter's face screwed up into a wince at the mental image. Groot could take care of himself, but violence wasn't exactly his favorite pastime, at least not before being reborn on Xandar, and after having basically re-raised him from a tiny twig, all of the Guardians couldn't help but feel a bit protective of their not-so-tiny-anymore teammate. To find out that Thanos was using him for who knows what and pitting him against his enhanced children like a glorified punching bag was kind of hard to swallow.

A spark of anger flared to life in his chest, aimed at the cyborg currently piloting his ship as he imagined her harming his gentle friend but he shoved it roughly back down. Blaming Nebula for the things she had done under Thanos's control was no different than blaming Gamora for the atrocious things that she had done, he reminded himself.

"How heavily guarded is this place?" Drax finally spoke up, voice loud against Peter's ear, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

"Highly. There are very few guards, but those that are assigned there are of the highest caliber, and there are several automated defense systems in place as well."

"Do you think you could get us in there?"

Nebula didn't answer right away, mulling over options or calculating plans, or whatever she did when she got out that emotionless doll face, perfected by years working as an assassin under the Mad Titan himself. Briefly, he wondered if she had ever played poker. She would probably be unbeatable.

While she thought, Peter reached his good arm down into the bag of sweets he'd saved from Sakaar and pulled out a pair of frosting coated pastries, passing one back to Drax who took it with a grunt of appreciation, and settled back into his own seat.

"I can get us through into the main facility as long as Thanos has not thought to change the codes yet - I can't imagine he would believe we were headed there of all places, so that might earn us the element of surprise-. The difficulty will lie in getting us all back out alive. The security is geared more towards keeping things in than keeping them out."

Peter stared at his pastry while he considered the implications of this. A secret research facility with security that pointed inward was an unappealing concept on many levels.

"So we can get in, but not out?" The very beginnings of a plan were starting to form. Not an ember, not even a spark, more like the kindling was just starting to arrange into a neat pile. He could see Nebula nodding out of the corner of his eye. "Do you think you could get us in without tripping any alarms? Like at all?"

"As long as the codes have not been changed," Nebula repeated.

"Good. Good." A smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And how well equipped would you call this security for an attack coming from the outside?"

"Your little M-Ship is hardly going to be a blip on their radars."

"Okay, but how about a _fleet_ of M-Ships?" The tugging at the sides of his mouth grew more insistent and he sat up straighter as he spoke.

One perfectly shaped brow rose as Nebula finally took her eyes away from the window and looked at him directly.

"Do you have such a fleet?" she asked skeptically.

"I might know a guy," he answered, the grin finally splitting over his face. "Do they have anything of value in the facility? Like an ancient and pricey artifact, high class weapons, piles of gold just sitting around...? Honestly, I can work with even just the rumor of something really good."

"I don't know about any gold, but the technology produced there isn't even available on the black market yet, and there may be several artifacts with sizable rewards sitting around in the research facilities... What exactly are you playing at?"

"I'm _playing_ at having my ravager friends run a distraction to cover our escape in exchange for whatever we can smuggle out for them."

"You have ravager friends?" The seat behind him creaked as Drax leaned forward once more.

"Well, friends might be a strong word. They kind of kidnapped me from Earth, threatened to eat me, and then used me to steal stuff for them and squeeze into tight spaces... So not really friends, or even well-wishers most of the time, but for the right price, they could certainly be persuaded to point their guns at some out-of-the-way research facility."

"They tried to eat you?" Drax asked, his face scrunched up. "Is that common? Are Terrans considered a delicacy?"

"What?! No! What is wrong with you?!"

"Nothing is wrong with me." Drax looked downright offended as he puffed himself up and squared his shoulders. "And you are the one who said that an entire crew tried to eat you. I merely asked why."

"It was just an empty threat to keep me in line. Mostly. I think... We're getting off topic."

Drax just shrugged like he thought Peter was being difficult and sat back in his chair again.

"The automated security could likely be overwhelmed with enough moving targets so the live guards would have to leave their posts to engage with the threat. If these ravagers of yours could hold their own against the security for long enough, we could likely slip out and be off the planet before they realized what we've done. "

"Great! So we have the start of a plan."

Drax let out a huff from behind them.

"Sneaking. That is coward's work! That is exactly what I would expect from the sniveling dogs of Thanos, but I had hoped for better from you, Peter Quill. We should slaughter every one of those guards and raze the whole place to the ground."

"HOW DA-" Nebula's head whipped around so fast she probably would have had whiplash if not for the thousands of nanobots constantly repairing her bones and tissues.

"Whoah!" Peter interrupted, throwing his arm up between them before this could turn into a full-blown brawl in the cockpit. "Take it easy. Drax, this no time to be rushing into anywhere like a bunch of jackasses. If we get ourselves killed we're no good to anyone, and you'll never get your revenge. Is that what you want? To die in some far corner of the universe before you can ever even get close to Ronan or Thanos?"

Drax shifted uncomfortably in his seat, arms crossed and a scowl heavy on his face.

"And another thing. You have got to stop insulting each other- both of you!" He glanced at Nebula who wrinkled her nose at him but had returned to focusing on piloting the ship, apparently content to leave dealing with Drax to Peter for now. "If we're ever going to pull off something like this we're going to have to start getting along. As a team."

"Ravagers and assassins," the hulking destroyer growled under his breath. The scar on his right shoulder seemed to ripple as his muscles flexed, and his eyes flashed dangerously from the shadows of his lowered brows. "What kind of a person do you think you are to lecture me?"

"The kind who has a ship, friends, and a plan, and hasn't spent the last who-knows-how-long hiding away like a child in some colosseum on the outskirts of the known universe. You want to talk about being a coward?" Peter growled right back. It was a low blow and he knew it, but he was already running on minimal sleep, had a vicious headache, and his hand was throbbing even through the pain meds, and Drax's whining was getting on his last precious nerve.

Drax stood from his chair with a snarl to tower over Peter and for a moment Peter thought he had finally pushed him too far. From the corner of his eye he could see Nebula subtly reaching for one of her daggers, one hand still on the controls. Drax appeared to notice this, too, his eyes darting between his two crewmates before he relented with a disgusted huff and turned to stalk wordlessly towards the ladder leading to the cargo bay.

As his head vanished from sight Peter relaxed against his seat. Nebula returned both hands to the controls and seemed to relax as well.

"I have not called him any names since boarding this vessel," she informed him.

"Don't you start," he groaned, covering his face with his good hand. He had forgotten how much his first week living with the Guardians had felt like living with children. All combined they probably had the emotional maturity of a potato with a bit of mold growing on it. Although the potato probably wouldn't have tried to blow them all up for laughing at how it sneezed. If Potatoes sneezed, that is.

He was going to have to apologize to Drax later for what he'd said. For all of his idiosyncrasies, Drax had always been the most steady and self-possessed of his crew. Insults rolled off his skin like water off a duck and while he often pouted and made his displeasure known when things did not go his way, he was quick to shake it off and move on with his life, unlike Peter who could set a record for petty grudges, Gamora who let things fester inside of her under the guise of not caring, or Rocket who was always a ticking time bomb just looking for an excuse to go off. Even mentions of his family, which obviously still caused him great pain, were usually met with a level of humor and grace, and he could speak of them with love and pride at their memory, not tainted by the bitterness of their loss. Something Peter had never truly been able to achieve with his own mother's death. To see him so emotionally raw and easily rattled was disturbing, to say the least.

He would give him some time to cool off before he touched on the subject again, though.

Peter finished off his own pastry, now a bit crushed and misshapen, before standing and stretching and announcing that he would be returning to his room. Nebula waved him away with a flick of her wrist and pulled up a navigation screen to study the nearby system.

-x-

Down in his room Peter reclined on his mattress, headphones on and boots bobbing along to the music as he ate a second pastry, some sort of sweet loaf that was a peculiar shade of purple and tasted a bit like a cinnamon roll. The treats were starting to get a bit stale around the edges, but they still tasted pretty good. As he ate, he mulled over some ideas about how to talk Yondu into risking his fleet against one of Thanos's outposts. It probably wouldn't be easy to convince the man that the reward would far outweighed the loss he'd be suffering in damaged or destroyed ships, so he'd have to have a plan before he could hail the Eclector.

As he weighed the pros and cons of telling him about Groot he found his mind kept wandering back to Nebula reaching for her knives back in the cockpit. She still hadn't brought up the subject of her missing dagger, and he still hadn't told her that he had lost it back on the swirling purple planet vanishing quickly behind them. The thought of that conversation brought up an uncomfortable mixture of dread and guilt.

He wasn't sure what the origins of her matching knives were; whether they were just standard gear assigned to her, or if they were a specialized set that she held any sort of attachment to. It wasn't as if he'd lost one of her signature electric batons, so it couldn't be that bad, right? Signature weapon or not, the knife he'd lost had certainly felt perfectly balanced and very well made as it slid into the alien like he was made of warm butter, and he could feel some sort of swirling design carved into the hilt. He was sure he couldn't afford to replace it either way.

He polished off the second pastry of the day and reached down into the bag, now at the side of his bed, to root around for another. While he dug through the remaining options his fingers brushed against a wad of crinkled up paper. Oh yeah. In the mad rush to leave he had completely forgotten about the bracelet that he had picked up from the bazaar.

Sitting up and crossing his legs Peter pulled the paper ball out and unwrapped it in his lap, dumping the thin silver chain and sword charm into his right palm. He rolled it between his fingers and chewed the inside of his lip as a different sort of plan sprouted in his brain.

He had given jewelry to an uncountable number of women in his life, as gifts, bribes, apologies, and even a ransom or two. This felt different. Nebula wasn't so much a woman in his life, as a very prickly unofficial sister-in-law who had nearly killed him on several occasions, and might just pull out her other blade and bury it in his rib cage if she decided to take this as an insult.

Briefly he considered trying to find some sort of armor to slip under his shirt but quickly dismissed the idea. Now he was the one being a coward. With a deep breath to steel his nerves he stood and marched out of his door.

In the common area, Drax sat at the far corner of the table, sharpening one of his blades with a sour look on his face and refusing to look up or acknowledge Peter as he made his way to the ladder. Another talk he wasn't looking forward to. Is this what his life was now? Awkward heart-to-hearts with Gamora's sister and this moping version of Drax? He deeply hoped that once he got the rest of the crew together things would return to some semblance of normal. He just had to gather them all together long enough to figure out how to get his timeline back and he could put this all behind him like some sort of terrible dream.

Scaling up the ladder, he found the Galaxy-class assassin right where he had left her, studying a map of what looked like a thin asteroid belt. Peter cleared his throat to get her attention, although he was certain she already knew he was there.

"Yes?" she asked, flicking the screen around so it displayed a different view of the same belt.

"Here," he said, stopping by the pilot's chair and holding his hand out towards her, fist curled around the bracelet.

Slowly, as though she thought he might be handing her a live grenade, she held her own hand out, palm up, and Peter dropped the fine silver chain and little gold charm into it with a soft clink.

"It's a gift," he rushed to explain when she gave him an incredulous stare. "And, kind of an apology."

Her non-bionic eye brow lowered suspiciously.

"I, uh, lost your knife on Liljhedahl," he confessed. "The guy I stabbed may have stumbled off with it and I-I'm sorry I guess."

Nebula curled her fingers around the bracelet, still not looking at it.

"And you thought this tiny trinket would replace my weapon?" she asked. He couldn't tell if she was angry or amused by this.

"No, not really, but it's just a gesture, y'know, like an 'I'm sorry I lost half of your really cool knife set so please don't stab me with the remaining one' kind of thing." He sniffed and shrugged his shoulders, feeling like a little kid under her scrutinizing gaze. "Look, if you don't want it I can take it back-."

"Fine," she said suddenly, drawing the bracelet closer to her body. "I accept your apology."

"Just like that?" It was Peter's turn to be suspicious.

"No. I expect it to be replaced. But in the mean time I will not stab you with the other one." It was definitely a spark of humor in her tone, much to Peter's relief. He had no clue how he was going to go about replacing half of a matching set, but he could worry about that later.

"Okay." He clapped his hands and flashed her a toothy grin. "That sounds good. I will uh, look into finding a replacement and I will hold you to the whole not-stabbing thing. Now I've got some business to attend to below so uh, see you later." As he spoke he backed up several steps and made a hasty retreat down into the lower deck before she could find a reason to change her mind.

Down below Drax was much as he had left him, but by now he had set his first blade aside on the table and was beginning to work on the second one. Peter took a seat straight across from him, leaning his arms on the table and trying to catch his eye.

"Hey man. I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier." He was pretty sure he had said that word more times today than he had the entire time he had spent growing up with the Ravagers. "I took it too far and it wasn't cool of me to bring up your family like that."

The sharp squeal of the whetting stone against the heavy blade kept time in the silence that followed like a morbid metronome.

"And it really wasn't cool of me to call you a coward. Again. You're not a coward. You're like the least cowardly person I have ever met. But we really need to start working as a group and that's not going to happen if you keep trying to pick a fight with Nebula every time you don't like one of our plans. You promised you would try to get along."

"I never made such a promise," he sighed. "I only said that I would not kill you two, and I have not."

"Well that's not good enough anymore," Peter snapped.

Drax paused in his sharpening to fix Peter with a thoughtful stare from across the table.

"I need a promise- a real promise, to try to get along at least until we can get this whole mess fixed and I can get us all back to the way things are supposed to be."

"You really believe that don't you?" Drax muttered, his voice had a weary quality to it now, like he already knew he had lost this argument and was resigning himself to something. "You told me on Sakaar that in your timeline I had once told you about my family, and that I had already achieved my revenge for them. Then I can take it that even if I help you defeat Thanos and return to your universe, my family will remain dead?"

The question caught Peter off guard. He swallowed thickly and fiddled with his cast. "Yes. They... died, long before we met. I would save them if I could, Drax, believe me, but I don't think that there is anything I can do to fix what happened to them."

From across the table Drax nodded as though he hadn't expected anything else and returned to sharpening his blade.

"I will give you my word to try, if you will give me your word that I will have my revenge at least, and that if there ever comes about any way to save my family you will tell me."

"I promise," Peter said without any hesitation.

"Then you have my word as well." Drax nodded to himself and seemed to settle back in the chair into a truly relaxed pose as he ran the stone over his already wickedly sharp blade. "Friend."

-x-

"Th'hell you want now?" the disgruntled captain demanded.

"Nice to hear from you, too, Yondu." Peter grinned back from his place in the pilot's chair. Now that they were on autopilot in open space he had reclaimed his rightful seat. "I have a proposition for you and the crew. How does weapons tech that isn't even on the black market yet and a few priceless stolen artifacts that could be ransomed back to their planets for almost any price you could name sound?"

"I'd say it strikes me pretty nicely. Keep talkin' boy-o." Yondu leaned back in his own seat and pressed his finger tips together.

"I have a hot tip about an outpost in a backwater waystation that has some pretty nice little treasures. I happen to be after something in particular at this location and would be willing to trade some cover fire for whatever else me and my crew can smuggle out of there."

"You and y'er crew, huh? Since when did your dumbass manage ta wrangle yourself a crew?"

"That's a... bit of a long story," he laughed. Peter was alone in the flight deck right now. He thought it would be best to make the arrangements on his own, "but they're both very skilled and reliable, so you don't have to worry about our end of the heist. Just keep the guards busy for a while and you can walk away from this with some very heavy pockets. So what do you say we meet up somewhere so we can go over the details and my crew mate can give you guys the rundown on their security measures?"

Yondu seemed to be seriously considering the offer and turned to mumble something to someone off screen. Probably Kraglin. The voices were too low to make anything out, but when Yondu turned back to the screen it was with a toothy grin.

"A'right boyo. You got my interest. I'm finishing up a big job right now, but I'll send you some co'ordinates. Meet us there in three cycles and we'll work out our payment."

"Sounds great." Peter grinned back, switching off the communication feed and flopping back in his chair.

"That went well." She was like a cat! Peter spun around in his seat to see Nebula standing with her arms crossed to the side of the ladder. A heavy thunking of boots echoed around the room as Drax pulled himself up afterwards.

"Yeah. Three cycles guys. Lets get some rest in the mean time." Speaking of, he was feeling pretty tired himself. The nap on Liljedahl was nice, but what he needed was a real good night's sleep.

Peter stood with a dramatic stretch and yawn.

"I'm going to sleep for real now. I'm beat. They should be sending the rendezvous coordinates anytime, so just plug them into this screen here when they arrive." He pointed at a small blue touchscreen to the left of his pilot's chair.

"Rest well, Peter Quill." Drax clapped him on the back as he passed, making Peter stumble slightly under the heavy blow.

"Thanks," he laughed. "Good night, guys."

"Good night," Nebula offered with a nod, and if on her left wrist, wrapped around the band over her wrist, a thin strip of silver flashed under the Milano's bay lights, Peter made no comment.

****End** **

 

 

**Chapter 7 teaser:** "... _What the hell is this?!" The sharp bark cut through the easy laughter like a gunshot through a flock of birds, scattering the ravagers and opening a wide berth around the newcomers. All eyes turned to the captain who stalked down into the room with a thunderstorm on his face. Heavy boots slapped against the metal steps leading down from the upper levels and Peter was startled to see the point of his arrow peaking out from under his coat._

_"Who wants to tell me what one of Thanos's assassins is doing on my ship?!_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had two people ask about Rocket in this chapter and feel like I have personally let you all down because, as you know, he is not in this one. When I posted the last one I only had about 700 words of this one written and I was planning to have this chapter end with them on Halfworld/launching their assault, but realized I still had some key elements I needed in place before I could get the gang back together again and the scenes wound up much longer than I thought they were going to be. I have literally no chapter plan when I write. I know the next key scene I want to reach, and sometimes certain events that I need to come up, and then just flail at the keyboard until I get there. The characters also don't listen to me very well and often have their own ideas about how the scenes should go.
> 
> Anyways, I felt so guilty I wrote this and the next chapter (about 10k words total) in two and a half days and am working on 8 now. Turns out guilt is a powerful writing motivator for me.( Also, I might have been just as excited to get to Rocket's part, myself.) I actually tried to upload this Friday but it kept bouncing back at me when I pressed submit so I gave up and decided to just try again later. I'll hopefully have the next chapter (and Rocket, yay!) up soon, I just want to wait until I'm pretty well into 8 just in case anything comes up and I have to make any continuity edits.
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read!
> 
> -OMaM


	7. An Angel With a Shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and his new crew set their sights on the planet Halfworld with the hope of rescuing Groot, but first they have to convince Yondu and his ravagers to lend their help, and hope that the heist won't include any undue surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to some action and main plot. In case anyone missed it I added a one-shot set between this chapter and the last one called Autographs and Apologies. Anyways, this is named after Angel with a Shotgun, aka, the song that launched a thousand fics. xD It's practically a cliche, but it fit so well with Yondu, his exile from the Ravagers and everything else he's given up in all his years protecting Peter, and that this is more or less the start of Peter starting to move on the offensive, that I just went with it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who continues to leave comments and kudos, they make my day! <3
> 
> Guardians of the Galaxy characters and original story belongs to Marvel.

** **Chapter 7: An Angel With a Shotgun** **   
  


_The security measures in this so called research facility were a joke. The men Korath had been assigned to take on this mission had mowed down the little robots with ease, and the staff turned out to be nothing more than a bunch of sniveling cowards in white coats._

_Korath strode down the corridors of the tiny laboratory unit. The air was filled with the smell of antiseptic cleaners and medical grade rubbing alcohol, with a distinct undercurrent of fear and death that drifted in and out; a sour smell that Korath knew all too well. A metallic rattling of doors and the sounds of animals snuffling and scrabbling at their cages drifted down the white hallways. In some far removed corner something was howling, a high keening noise that sounded hollow and mournful even to Korath's uncaring ear._

_The so called doctor that led him through the lab was trembling, the seams on his white coat dancing with his violent shivers and occasional sniffling._

_"H-h-h-here,” he hiccuped, gesturing to a pair of swinging doors with windows set into them. "This is-is the Enhancements Research Lab."_

_Korath shoved the doors open roughly and stepped inside, grabbing the researcher by the scruff of his coat and dragging him in as well._

_Inside, the reek of harsh cleaning chemicals was stronger than ever. Korath wrinkled his nose against the cloying smell and resisted the urge to sneeze. Two large empty tables made up the center of the room, racks of surgical equipment and tubing arranged around them on rolling carts, and used bloody rags and gauze pads piled up and spilled out of the tiny trash receptacles underneath. Inactive monitors and computers lined the walls. Against the far wall, several small kennels were nestled among the technology. In one Korath could make out a pair of white-tipped ears poking out from a bundle of white towels. Likely the creature was recovering from a recent surgery._

_"Are you-" the man in the coat squeaked out, hands wringing together. "Are you going to kill us?"_

_Korath turned his head to consider the trembling man, hardly much older that Korath himself by the looks of it, eyes wide and rolling in terror and dark hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, and felt a wave of disgust swell up from within. He found he wanted desperately to tell him that yes, he would be ridding the universe of their parasitic presence, but he had his orders, so instead he pulled his lips back into a poor impersonation of a smile that didn't at all hide the cruel intentions in his eyes._

_"Now why would we waste such precious resources?"_

-x-

The three cycles passed in surprising peace. Nebula and Drax both seemed to be making an effort to actually get along. For Drax this meant easing back on the insults, both direct and underhanded, and even opening up about his family in brief moments. For Nebula it seemed to mostly mean remaining fairly scarce, but she could occasionally be drawn into some of the less rowdy conversations and even snorted into a bowl of soup so hard at one of Drax's joke that she had to leave the table for a while.

They made great time to the rendezvous point, which turned out to be a thriving outpost on a small moon in the Godstears galaxy, arriving a whole half-cyle early which gave Peter plenty of time to work on some of the minor repairs his ship still needed.

Work was slow but steady with his broken finger. The others had offered to help, and he probably should have let them, but he was enjoying the peace and solitude after days cramped in the one-man ship. The swirling designs Drax had drawn across his cast and a little smiling face that Nebula had added after she had taken Peter's request to 'Just sign your name with a smiley face or whatever' too literally, was all the company he needed. The air was crisp and refreshing and from the open access hatch he could hear the low rumble of Drax's voice floating up from the common area, and a softer murmur that was probably Nebula's reply.

He had finished repairing the big dent over the left wing and was working on welding a couple of smaller cracks and scrapes over the hood when he caught the familiar sight of the Eclector lowering down through the misty sky.

Hastily, he stashed his tools back into the box at his side and poked his head down the access hatch.

"Hey guys," he called, tossing Drax the box of tools when he caught the man's eye so he could work his way down into the ship. "Ready to go?"

-x-

They had arranged to hold the meeting in the common room of the Elector itself to avoid any information leaking into the wrong ears. Walking up the loading ramp of his old ravager ship was a surreal experience. He hadn't been there for the destruction of all but the third quadrant, but in the time that followed he had grown used to the smaller, emptier, portion of the ship, and the sea of familiar dead faces floating by were disturbing on a whole new level. Half of these men should be dead by Yondu's own hand, with the help of Rocket, and the other half had suffered a far worse fate at the hands of their own crew in the vicious mutiny. For the most part, Peter wasn't even sure which of his old crew mates fell to which side of that fate. Other than a few names that Rocket could recall all he really knew was that they were all, each and every one of them, dead, save for Kraglin.

Seemingly oblivious to Peter's discomfort, the ravager crew welcomed him aboard with cheers and good natured slaps on the back. Despite Drax's earlier misgivings about the degenerate crew, he seemed to be enjoying the ruckus, although the large glass of something frothy and amber that someone had shoved into his hand may have had something to do with his sudden turn around in attitude. Nebula stalked silently behind him, tense as an overdrawn bowstring, and looking about as ready to snap.

Being equipped to host a crew of well over a hundred men full time, the common room of the Eclector was massive compared to the tiny little storage space on the Milano. It used to remind Peter of a cafeteria as a child. Several tables and a collection of couches, chairs, and benches were scattered across the room, used for everything from eating meals to taking naps, to gambling away one's earnings. Peter had learned how to use weighted die on the low wooden table in the far corner, and had lost one of his favorite pistols betting on a match in the empty spot behind the long tan couch that had been about 5 shades lighter at that time.

" _What the hell is this_?!" The sharp bark cut through the easy laughter like a gunshot through a flock of birds, scattering the ravagers and opening a wide berth around the newcomers. All eyes turned to the captain who stalked down into the room with a thunderstorm on his face. Heavy boots slapped against the metal steps leading down from the upper levels and Peter was startled to see the point of his arrow peaking out from under his coat.

"Who wants to tell me what one of Thanos's assassins is doing on _my ship_!?" He hollered as he stopped at the bottom of the staircase, Kraglin and several other crew members who had followed him down spilled into the room after him looking confused but ready to spring into action at their captains command.

At his side, Peter could see Nebula's hand inch towards the batons strapped to her back. He desperately hoped this was a sign of her erring towards non-lethal combat if it came to blows.

"It's Okay, Yondu, they're with me-" Peter started, stepping forward.

"Well they'd better be off my damned ship! I don't need her kind of trouble in my operations!" The crew surrounding them began to shift and murmured, eyeing Nebula now with a mix of disquiet and open hostility.

"Look, Yondu, she's defected from Thanos's army, Okay? No trouble. So everyone just calm down and we can talk this out like adults. Adults who are about to be really rich if we pull off this heist." The mention of money seemed to quiet down the less violent members of the crew, though some still looked like they were spoiling for a fight.

"If she really did turn on Thanos, then I'm betting there ain't nothing on that planet worth more than the bounty on her head," Yondu hissed back, hardly sparing his wayward son a sideways glance. The murmuring around them grew more excited and the rustling of clothes and boots grew louder as the crew edged closer.

Nebula was beginning to more closely resemble a cornered animal than a master assassin, eyes darting around for an escape route and hands poised over her weapons. Much to Peter's surprise, Drax drew closer as well, subtly shifting to cover Nebula's back and fixing the nearest ravagers with a warning glare.

Double shit. Things were not going as smoothly as he had hoped. Since when was Yondu such a coward? Sure he had never gone out of his way to deal with any of Thanos's thugs, it was just common sense not to seek out that hornets nest, but he had never seemed outright afraid of much of anyone. Something else was going on here.

"Well it would be a losing bet," Peter huffed back, sticking out his chin defiantly. "The information she has is invaluable, and since when do you work for Thanos?"

Yondu sneered back at him, knowing that he couldn't ignore the challenge to his pride in front of the crew. "You know I don't work for nobody but my own damned self, boy, so you best cut the crap and tell me what's on that planet that you want so desperately."

"That's none of your business."

"It's entirely my business! It's my ships, and my crew you're askin' to borrow, and I ain't no damned fairy godmother here to magically grant your wishes fer nothin' more'n the warm fuzzy feelin' of doin' what's right."

Peter resisted the urge to chew on his lip. He couldn't just say 'I'm doing this to rescue my friend.' That kind of sentimentality wasn't going to be winning him any points with the crew right now, and while maybe Yondu could be persuaded to overlook it if they had been discussing things in private, there was no way it wasn't just going to earn him a clout him over the head here.

"It's a weapon of sorts," Peter ventured, gauging the reactions of the room as he went. "Something one-of-a-kind and invaluable to me."

"So you're holdin' out on us, huh?" Yondu was pacing now, addressing the room as much as his guests, and making a show of it. "Taking the big payment and tossin' us the scraps, is it? And what's to keep us from just, say, double crossin' you and takin' this one-of-a-kind invaluable weapon of yours, hm?" The crew snickered around them.

"Because you don't trade in bodies," Peter growled back, effectively silencing the muffled laughter and causing Yondu to pause and fix him with a long cold stare.

"A'ight, boyo. I'll hear you out. Why don't you come on up and we'll talk in private?" The ends of his duster flicked out as he turned back to the stairs he had come down from. "Just you. Leave these friends a'yours down here."

Peter opened his mouth to protest but was stopped by the sound of Drax clearing his throat.

"Go. We can take care of ourselves."

Looking at the Champion, mug of beer held stubbornly in one hand and the other hand wrapped lazily around the hilt of one of his freshly sharpened blades, and Thanos's ex-daughter who had since regained her composure and stood with defiant ease under the sea of eyes, and realized that he believed him. They would be fine. With a grateful smile he followed after the captain. As he climbed up to the next floor he could hear Drax's voice rise up from below.

"Now, who is foolish enough to think they can defeat me in a game of arm wrestling!?" A chorus of excited cheers rose up in response and Peter couldn't help the chuckle that followed.

-x-

Several flights up, Yondu was waiting for him in the drafting room. Peter was hardly surprised to find Kraglin there as well. The man had always been like a scrawny second shadow to the centurion, working his way up through the ranks to become the captain's right hand man at an impressively young age.

"Now, are you going to tell me what's goin' on here. The truth, boyo. We don't deal in tradin' people, and I know you don't either, so what the hell is this place, and who the hell are you willing to break into it to retrieve?"

Peter squared his shoulders and schooled his face carefully into a neutral expression, but this close to the man who had died in his arms in the empty void of space as what failed to be his father collapsed behind him was making it difficult to concentrate. He wanted nothing more right now than to step forward and throw his arms around the man who had raised him and beg his forgiveness.

"It's a research facility of sorts. According to Nebula they develop cutting edge weapons tech and enhancements. They're keeping a friend of mine there and I can't get him out alone." Peter leveled as best he could without giving too much away. He really didn't need a repeat of the infinity stone fiasco, and didn't know if the mention of going toe to toe with The Mad Titan himself would spook the Ravager captain from this plan. "I have a scheme I'm working on and I need his help to pull it off."

"And you're willin' to risk my crew and give up anything of value for him?" Yondu hummed to himself and took a seat in one of the big chairs. Kraglin took his usual place at his captain's shoulder.

"Cap, if he has inside information then this could be a pretty good score for us. Fernweh would be willing to pay top dollar for weapons of that quality, no questions asked."

"That's another thing," Yondu seemed to ignore his first mate's point to lean toward Peter with narrowed eyes. "How is it that you came across one of Thanos's children, and what makes you so sure she's not just leadin' you about to sell you out at the first chance she gets?"

"Thaaaaats a long story, but basically I got picked up by Ronan for being Star-lord and she helped me escape," Peter chuckled.

Yondu slammed his fist against the arm of his chair, startling Kraglin as much as Peter.

" _What did I tell you about that blasted childsname of yours_?!"

"Whoah, take it easy, it's just my old outlaw name. I've always-"

"I told'ya to keep your goddamned trap shut and never use that stupid name O' yours and you couldn't even do that, could you?" He didn't just look upset now, he looked downright dangerous. What was the big deal? It was just a nickname. A really good one, yeah, but his Yondu had never once given half an Orlani's ass about it, so why was it suddenly such an issue? Unless...

"Is this about the bounty on my name?" he asked. That didn't make much sense, he'd been going by that name for years before the encounter on Xandar that changed everything. Something cold and hard ran its icy fingers across his gut.

"...How long, exactly, has there been a bounty on that name?" How far back did these changes run? He had assumed that whoever rewrote this new universe had just changed a few things from around the time that the Infinity Stone came into his life. This news changed things. And not for the better.

"Since around the time my crew plucked your scrawny ass on up from that sorry little dirt ball you called home. I don't know what kind of joke the cosmos are makin' here, but if you were dumb enough to call yourself by that name in front of The Accuser then I would suggest gettin' as far away from that assassin as you can and keeping your fool head low for a long while, or it'll be cut off 'fore you know it."

"I can't do that, Yondu. And don't worry about Nebula, really. She hates Thanos more than anyone else I've ever met. I don't think she'll be turning me over any time soon. Besides, we need her for this to work. No one else knows this facility, the codes, and the security measures."

Yondu looked less than pleased by Peter's reply, but when he glanced at his first mate, Kraglin just nodded encouragingly.

"The men could really use a good firefight Cap. They're gettin' kind of restless with these last couple'a escort jobs. I caught them tryin' to set up some sorta bettin' operation with darts and blindfolds in a pit... I didn't ask too many questions."

Yondu made a face that was somewhere between exasperated and disgusted, peeling the corner of his lip up to reveal pointed teeth.

"A'ight. You got your cover fire, but don't expect me to go to bat for you if you get yourself stuck down there, and if the damages to my M-ships start eating into the profits it'll be your hide it's comin' outta, you got that boy?"

Peter nodded and tried not to let the smug grin win over his face.

Yondu stood and led the way back down towards the common room. As they approached a rhythmic clapping and hooting drifted up from the open hatch. Down below the crew had formed into a tight circle around several figures. Nebula sat on one side of one of the tables, her bionic hand held up with her elbow resting against the table top. On the other side stood three ravagers, huffing and panting as they struggled to tip her hand backward. Despite their creative cursing and all three of them working up a good sweat, her slender arm refused to budge even an inch.

"LISTEN UP!" Yondo's voice cut through the excitement, everything falling to a silence punctuated by a loud bang and the howling of the man whose hand Nebula had just slammed against the table, effectively ending the game. Yondu fixed him with a hard stare and he fell silent as well, tucking his injured hand against his chest.

"We're goin' on a heist!" The crew once more erupted into cheers. More bottles of liquor were pulled out from who knows where and several members stopped to pat their injured crew member and laugh at him good-naturedly.

-x-

The Keystone quadrant was definitely out of the way. It was so far removed from the closest inhabited system that the nearest jump point they could find dropped them nearly a half-cycle's travel away. This gave them plenty of time to hammer out the finer details of the plan and prepare for their roles. The M-ships were all dusted off and tuned up, and Peter pulled out some spare uniforms for Drax and Nebula. It was like a strange DejaVu pulling the old never-worn-in-this-universe outfits once more. He didn't even bother giving Drax the top half of his uniform this time around, and Nebula cut the left arm off of what should have been Gamora's uniform. Seeing Nebula walk around in it reminded Peter of just how much he missed having the green woman's calm and reassuring presence in his life. He desperately hoped they would find her soon.

Two of Peter's spare guns, an old set he had purchased as a birthday present to himself because they reminded him of the old action movies he would watch on Earth, were strapped to Nebula's hips. Apparently she was some sort of sharp shot. First Gamora and now her sister; was everyone's thing going to be guns now?

Drax had also been given something that resembled a small caliber rocket launcher from the Eclector's armory which he had slung across his back.

The hustle and bustle of preparations were a welcome distraction from the tight feeling in his chest, and before he knew it they were putting the plan into motion.

As the planet Halfworld took the form of a tiny dim dot in the windshields Peter took his place in the co-pilots chair. There had been some discussion about it, and it had been decided that since Nebula knew the security systems and lay of the land better, and currently had the full use of both of her hands, that she should be the one to pilot them in. And by decided, he meant he had been outvoted two-to-one.

Drax the traitor was once more in the back seat manning the weapons system in case they were spotted prematurely. Peter had once offered him the front but was informed that the back seat had more leg room, and that, unlike Peter, Drax did not have 'scrawny little baby legs' which could fit between the front seats and the too-close consoles. Peter felt that he could have just made his point, without outright insulting him.

They approached the planet with the power dropped into its lowest setting, the lights dimmed until he could only make out the glowing control panels and the silhouettes of his teammates. The plan was for them to coast in under the sensors, disguised as so much space rubble. Nebula knew of a few points in their radars where it was strictly automated, and the system's AI would not immediately alert the guards to the intrusion of something that fell bellow the energy expectations of a live spacecraft.

Yondu and his fleet of M-ships would remain hidden behind one of several dead planets nearby and wait for a signal that they had arranged to send out when they had located Groot and were ready to leave the planet. The signal was a short burst of energy designed to mimic the communication waves used by Thanos' own vessels, so with any luck the inhabitants would assume it was a failed hailing frequency and that would buy them enough time for the M-ships to show up and them to slip out undetected.

Entrance into the atmosphere went off without a hitch. No fleet of guards or blaring alarms greeted them as they glided down to land in what looked like some sort of loading bay that hadn't been used in years. A thick layer of ashy dust had settled over the black buildings all around them, billowing out from under the ship in a wave as they touched down, only to settle back down before the engines even cut, like it was just too tired to be bothered and wanted nothing but to return to its eternal slumber.

Outside of the ship everything was eerily quiet. Even the sound of their boots was muffled in the dust as they crept through the empty buildings. They had chosen to launch their assault under the cover of the planet's night cycle and touch down in a deactivated portion of the facility that was no longer monitored. In the distance, the lights of the active facility shone like beacons guiding them through the darkness.

They came upon the first access point they had to pass through, a thick concrete-type wall that ran the perimeter of the entire active facility and housing for the inhabitants. As Nebula stepped forward to tap in a series of numbers into a keypad with 15 glowing symbols Peter held his breath. This was the moment of truth. Either the code would work and the system had not been updated, granting them access through the rest of the facility undetected, or it would be rejected and they would be immediately discovered.

When the code had been entered, the keypad made a sort of soft whirring noise before blinking a light teal color. The soft click of a bolt unlocking was one of the sweetest sounds Peter had ever heard.

On the other side of the wall stood more buildings, just as silent and still, but here there was no layer of dust to shuffle through, and the shadows were fewer. Their first stop was a warehouse near the center of the facility. According to Nebula, this was where they stored most of the research material and where they would most likely find the items that they needed to repay the ravagers with. Things were going to get much trickier once they had Groot in tow, and Peter would much rather not have to worry about that on the way out.

The keypad on this building was of a much higher tech, but Nebula's codes worked nonetheless and before he knew it they were tiptoeing through poorly lit rows of priceless artifacts, all neatly labeled and carefully placed on metal shelves. Peter had no clue what any of these things were. That swirling black and white stone at his shoulder could be worth millions on the black market, or could just be a worthless rock. Fortunately, Nebula seemed to know what she was after and grabbed a number of seemingly random items as she passed, handing them to Drax who stored them away in a large leather satchel strung across his shoulders.

Just for the kicks, Peter snagged a few smaller items that caught his eye and shoved them into his own pockets; A pair of small pebbles that seemed to glow from within, a weird computer chip, some sort of grey and red box that was about the size of his fist... They each had labels but it was in a language he couldn't read and it was all just gibberish to him.

When Drax's bag was filled they slipped into a hallway at the back of the building and followed it deeper into the slumbering facility. The lights in here were so dim that Peter could only barely make out the edges of several tables as they passed. He activated his mask after he didn't notice one in time and was confused when it rolled away on squeaky wheels after he bumped it with his hip. Under the infrared sensors of his mask, he was disturbed to discover that many of the tables were actually gurneys and steel carts of various shapes and sizes. Creepy.

What felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes later, Nebula led them through an empty courtyard and into an imposing grey building that had no windows and a very thick automated door that required a complicated code and the press of a hand to enter. They ducked under the door as it rolled up into the wall at a sedated pace, too impatient to wait for it to finish its lengthy journey.

"What is this place?" Drax asked, his hushed voice echoing down the empty hall.

"This is where they keep the rowdier test subjects,” Nebula whispered back. Now that she mentioned it, Peter realized that the doors they were passing here had heavy bolts fixing the frames to the walls, and window slits that were just big enough to look through, but wouldn't easily accommodate an escaping body. Below the windows were metal plates with what looked like numbers engraved into them. When Peter paused to peer through one of the windows he was thankful to find it empty. He checked the next few, and found them empty as well, until Nebula cursed at him to hurry up.

A dozen or so rooms down, one door in particular had a chart hanging below the engraved number. Here they paused, and when Peter put his face against the glass he could make out the dark form of Groot hunched in the corner, legs drawn up against his chest and head resting on his knees so that he more closely resembled a gigantic bird's nest than the teammate he was looking for.

"That's him,” he whispered, struggling to keep his voice down now that his friend was so close and stepping back so Nebula could access the keypad.

"How do you remember all these codes?" he asked as she typed in a simple three digit code. As far as he could tell, every single code had been different.

"My father always stressed a good memory," she murmured back, swinging the door open and entering the room. "He hated repeating himself."

Upon their entrance, the lights inside the room turned on, temporarily blinding Peter as he disabled his mask and let his eyes adjust. The figure in the corner had not moved at all in the time it took him to regain his bearings.

"Groot," he called out softly, although there was probably no one around to hear even if he had been shouting. "Come on buddy, we're here to get you out."

That at least elicited some sort of response.

The Flora Colossus slowly uncurled with the dry rustling sound of old twigs and kindling sliding over each other. He looked terrible. The few leaves that were present were shriveled up and brittle, and his usual layer of vibrant green moss was absent. Dark eyes, which Peter knew to be soft and expressive, appeared cloudy and unfocused as they blinked up at him now. A thick unbroken band of black metal was wrapped around his neck like a collar.

"I... am Groot." His voice was hoarse and wispy.

"My name is Peter Quill," Peter soothed him. "We're here to rescue you."

"I am Groot," Groot rasped out, turning his dry squinting gaze on Nebula.

"Not this time, buddy. She's not going to hurt you again, she's here to help me save you."

"You can understand him?" Nebula interrupted.

"Oh, yeah. I mean I kind of raised him in my timeline." This only earned him an arched eyebrow and no further questions. Groot either didn't hear or didn't care, too focused on the thought of escape.

"So what do you say?" He turned his attention back to Groot, still hunched miserably on the ground. "Come with us and we'll leave this ugly place."

Groot drew a deep shuddering breath and struggled to his feet.

"I... Am... Groot!"

"Then let's go." Peter and Nebula turned to the door, pausing in the hallway and waiting for the colossus to catch up. As he ducked through the doorway a red light winked into life on his collar and he hunched over with a gasp of pain. At the same time a deafening screech tore through the air causing Peter to flinch and reach for his ears.

"Damn it!" he screamed over the alarm. "The door! GET TO THE DOOR!"

Drax shot off like a bullet for the main door which was descending at a much quicker pace than it had opened at. With a dramatic slide Drax made it just in time to shove his shoulder under the door and hold it open.

Nebula lingered long enough to take a hold of the collar with her cybernetic arm. Sparks burst out where she made contact and the brittle wood of Groot's body crunched as she forced her fingers between the metal and the wood and twisted the collar off with a strangled cry of her own. With that done, she flung the collar aside and darted after Drax.

"HURRY UP!" Drax roared, straining under the significant weight.

Groot, however, was going nowhere quickly in his dilapidated state, lumbering desperately towards the sliver of freedom at the end of the hallway with his mouth set in a grim line.

Nebula added her strength to holding back the door which inched closer to the ground, forcing Drax to his knee, while Peter did his best to hurry the tree along, pulling the signal button from his back pocket and mashing it repeatedly, hoping Yondu would get the message that they were in trouble and hurry things up.

"Come on Groot, just a little further. Give it all you got."

"I..." Groot gasped out, stumbling forward just a little faster. "Am..."

Drax was screaming now as the door pressed into his back, bending his neck into an awkward angle as his muscles bulged like they were about to burst.

"GROOT!" Groot reached the door just as Drax's chest was bent down to his knee. Vines erupted from his outstretched arms to wrap around the base of the door, warping the metal so that it folded upwards like a set of drapes.

"YES!" Peter whooped and cheered as he activated his mask and pulled out his right-hand blaster. Just like old times.

Out in the courtyard blinding searchlights threw down dizzying shadows and followed them as they ran across the open space. Red tinted beams rained down from atop the walls, pinging off the ground at their heels.

"It's just the automated response!" Nebula shouted over the noise as she fired back into the dark. Several minuscule explosions sounded where she had hit her marks. "Let's get out of here before any of the live guards show up!"

"It's a little late for that, Sister." Korath's voice boomed through the court as the automated bullets suddenly stopped, the four Guardians skidded to a halt as well. Squinting against the light, Peter could just make out the form of Thanos's son and easily a couple dozen armed Kree soldiers all standing on the walls surrounding them.

"Get out of the way Korath," Peter shouted back, screwing up his face and aiming his blaster as best he could through the burning lights. "We cut through you once and we'll do it again."

At his sides Drax and Nebula were lining up their own shots, and Groot's arms swelled and creaked as he gathered himself.

Korath's laughter echoed around them.

"You won't find these soldiers so easy to outmaneuver."

As he spoke a smaller shadow broke off from the rest and dropped down into the courtyard before them, blocking the exit. Peter's heart caught in his throat as he stared at the stranger under the harsh white lights.

"Rocket...? Oh, buddy, what have they done to you?"

****End** **

 

 

.

**Chapter 8 Teaser:** "... _Groot!" He screamed, waving his arms when he saw the Flora Colossus raise his limb again, Rocket's striped tail lashing about as his body was squeezed in the crushing vines. "Groot no! You can't-_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we get to learn a few more interesting things.Like how Thanos's changes stretch as far back as at least Peter's abduction, and Yondu has apparently been protecting him all this time. For two decades Yondu may have been the only person in the entire universe to have any idea as to what Peter was and why The Titan wanted him. 
> 
> Also, in the second movie Nebula states that Thanos had her 'brain pulled from [her] skull.' In this story I headcannon that among other things, he had her memory enhanced similar to Rocket's. Plus, her and Gamora's rivalry always struck me as a kind of classic talent vs hard work situation. Not to say that Gamora didn't work hard, but she has an obvious advantage over Nebula in their fights and in Thanos's favor, so I tend to represent her as a more studious individual, in the habit of constantly studying and struggling just to keep pace with her sister. (I also recently found out that she was considered a tactical genius in the original comics, although her character has changed considerably since then.)
> 
> Nebula Arm wrestling the Ravager crew is, by far, my favorite part of this chapter.
> 
> What is Korath doing on Halfworld anyways?
> 
> And finally, Rocket! Whoo!
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read!
> 
> -OMaM


	8. Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've been discovered, and with the arrival of security comes none other than Rocket. But he isn't the only surprise that the planet has to offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5k words of action and desperation. This chapter took me about a week and a half to write. I kept getting frustrated and putting it aside. Action scenes are definitely not my comfort zone. Hopefully I can get some practice in and improve before the next big fight scene. This chapter is named for "Breath" by Breaking Benjamin. 
> 
> I don't own GotG! this is a fanwork purely for entertainment. I hope it entertains!

** **Astronautical Ch 8: Breath** **

  
  


"Great. It's the rodent." Nebula's low hiss fell on deaf ears as Peter stared ahead, slack jawed and stunned.

The dark mask and round ears were unmistakable, even buried under all the gear they had piled onto his friend's body. Leather and Metal guards sat heavy on his shoulders and braced his forearms and shins, bullet proof pads coated his chest and straps criss-crossed his body, weapons and strange gadgets clipped around his waist. Under the gear was some sort of deep blue uniform, traced with a crimson edging that could just barely be made out from the shadows. A black metal collar matching Groot's wrapped around his neck, and most horrifying of all was a sleek silver muzzle strapped over his face, obscuring everything below his eyes, which glowed an eerie red under the burning lights.

The voice in his head was back and more insistent than ever that this wasn't real, that it was just too wrong to be true, and he needed to _wake the fuck up_!

As he stared in slack-jawed horror, the creature that looked like Rocket twitched an ear and cocked his head slightly, as though listening to something. A moment later he pulled a large weapon from his back which expanded into a much more significant and hauntingly familiar shape at the flick of his wrist and leveled the barrel straight at him, balancing its weight across his shoulder with ease.

"Peter move!"

The shadow down the barrel of the Hadron Enforcer was nothing compared to the empty blackness he saw in his best friend's eyes.

"Peter!"

Like a slow motion scene in an action movie, Rocket's finger moved to the trigger of his weapon.

"PETER!"

His finger squeezed the trigger and the real world came crashing back down around him with a bang.

Something slammed into him from the side, shielding him from the deadly blast just in time. The impact still threw him across the courtyard to smack painfully onto the concrete and roll to a stop some distance away.

Gasping and rolling to his knees, Peter cradled his left hand against his chest. He had stupidly tried to break his fall and forgotten about his broken finger.

A crunching noise drew his frayed attention to his right where Nebula's body lay prone some distance away, the bones on her right side and her rib cage twisted unnaturally. Logically, he knew she would be fine in a matter of moments. He'd seen her survive the same blast point blank then get up to give her sister a run for her money on the Dark Aster. Still, a sour taste filled the back of his throat as he watched her bones snap into place, accompanied by a low scream that was equal parts agony and frustration.

Before her leg had even fully reset she was up and firing one of her pistols at a shadowed soldier who let out a screech and tumbled down from the wall.

Across the courtyard, Drax was firing his own weapon up at Korath and the silhouettes above while Groot charged at Rocket with a hollow roar.

Something landed heavily behind him and Peter spun to fire at the soldier darting towards him. This was not a time for the stun settings on his blasters, and the soldier dropped, clutching at a burning hole through his left side. Two more took his place, these two splitting apart to dodge his fire, and Peter was forced to resort to hand to hand combat, not his method of choice even when he had two fully functional hands. Peter went limp as the first one slammed into his chest, allowing the momentum to roll him back and using his legs to flip the man straight over him and towards Nebula who shot him in the head with one of the twin pistols without even taking her sight off of her next target on the wall.

As he was regaining his feet a knee connected with his side as the second one drove into him, knocking his breath from his lungs.

A string of curse words made their way out from between his clenched teeth as he repeatedly bludgeoned the Kree's helmeted head with the butt of his quad blaster until he could make enough room between them to shoot him in the chest.

Peter took advantage of the brief wave of respite that followed to reactivate his mask and look around for Rocket. He and Groot had moved away from the entrance and closer to one of the corners where a scraggly old tree sat over a muddy pond. The smashed remains of the Hadron Enforcer were scattered behind them, along with an unhealthy amount brittle twigs and broken branches. Rocket appeared to be largely unharmed, ducking between the blows as he fiddled with something at his side, but Groot's rage and desperation seemed to be lending him an advantage for now as he swung his limbs wildly, driving his opponent back.

Drax was struggling a bit more against his own opponents. At some point, Korath had joined them in the court and was engaging Drax with some sort of heavy pulse rifle while a handful of soldiers circled around, boxing him in and firing relentlessly at his exposed back.

"Hey buttmunch!" Peter called out, leveling his Quad blaster at the group. Several guards spun around and broke off to advance towards him. "Ha! You answered to buttmunch," Peter laughed as he tucked his injured hand against his side and fired.

While Peter dealt with his three, a blue blur darted past him to drive a dagger straight into the spine of the closest enemy with his back turned before flipping over his shoulders to land at Drax's back. With Peter's assistance from the outside and Nebula's expert precision from within, the group made short work of the bulk of Korath's group and could turn their attention to helping Drax, who had given up on trying to match up to Korath with a long-range weapon and had rushed forward to cross swords instead.

While Drax was always a force to be reckoned with, especially with those daggers, the overwhelming swarm had done its damage and he was by now panting quite heavily and bleeding from a large patch of charred skin across his right hip and several smaller patches up and down his arms and back. Korath had drawn his own sword and was holding his own without so much as a scratch on his carefully polished armor, an easy grin across his face. The click and buzz of the electric batons activating was their only warning before Nebula was sliding between Drax's legs, slashing upwards with a violence that sent Korath reeling back with a nasty howl.

"Hello brother," she said with a smile. "Did you miss me?"

"Like a pebble in my shoe," he snarled, retreating several paces to put some distance between himself and the advancing trio. He was running out of room, Peter realized with a surge of hope, and soon they could box him against the wall. They could do this. They were winning.

Suddenly there was an earsplitting scream at his side and Drax was dropping to the ground, writhing and clawing at something embedded in his neck, arcs of blue electricity dancing across his skin. Spinning in search of the cause, Peter's eyes landed on Rocket who had made his way up into the branches of the scraggly court tree. He was balanced on one of the sturdier limbs with a small handgun of sorts pointed straight at where Drax had been standing. The corners of his red eyes crinkled under the muzzle when they met Peter's, as though they were sharing a joke.

Groot took advantage of his enemy's momentary distraction, grabbing the raccoon with an extended arm and swinging him into the nearest wall with such force he left a crater in its smooth side.

Korath shot forward then, sword outstretched, and Nebula rose to meet her brother, the pair of assassins tumbling away in a whirl of clanging metal while Peter's mind was spinning out trying to figure out how to help his friends.

Ripping off his heavy leather jacket, Peter threw it on top of Drax, still writhing on the ground. Grabbing the embedded disk through the thick leather, he yanked it violently from the maniac's neck. It came out with the sound of tearing flesh. Peter could feel a faint buzzing sensation running up his arm, but the jacket was designed to insulate against the harshest conditions the known universe had to offer. Tossing the disc aside, he turned his attention to making sure Groot didn't somehow kill Rocket, sprinting across the court while slinging his jacket back on, pointedly ignoring the warm wet patch soaking through his shirt.

"Groot!" he screamed, waving his arms when he saw the Flora Colossus raise his limb again, Rocket's striped tail lashing about as his body was squeezed in the crushing vines. "Groot no! You can't-"

The raccoon managed to wriggle one arm free, something small and shiny flashed in his paw as he raised it up and slapped it down onto the vines holding him. Immediately, the branches burst into a burning crimson that rippled down Groot's arm like a wave of embers, leaving the vines charred and dead in its wake. A howl of terror escaped Groot's lips as he dropped the raccoon and stumbled back, waving his arm about as if to shake off the creeping flames.

Rocket landed nimbly on his feet, aiming that same pistol from before at Peter who felt a flash of terror, dodging to the side and firing his own weapon back. He fired on his weapon's stun setting, still reluctant to cause any real harm to his best friend, but he needn't have bothered. The cybernetically enhanced raccoon easily sidestepped his blasts and retreated into the shadows at the base of the wall, the tip of his tail vanishing with a flick.

Peter turned back in time to see Drax leap forward with a cry and swing his freshly sharpened blade straight through Groot's flailing arm like an ax, severing the entire infected limb in one blow just before the embers could reach his core body. Groot whimpered and grabbed at the stump of his arm. As he stumbled away from its blackened remains, still smoldering on the ground, there was a look of shock and terror that Peter felt mirrored on his own face.

Things had gone bad. And they had done so in a hurry. Drax had a steady stream of blood dripping from the hole in his neck and was swaying ever so slightly, and Groot was hugging his severed stump, eyes half closed and looking somehow even worse for wear than he already had when they'd first found him. They could flee now, the way was open, but leaving Rocket behind just wasn't an option.

Peter bit his lip and drummed his fingers against the triggers of his blaster. If he could get Nebula and her electric batons to help they might be able to subdue Rocket long enough to talk some sense into him, but half of his team was looking ready to drop and the raccoon had been suspiciously quiet since vanishing into the shadows. When it came to Rocket, out of sight was definitely not out of mind. He was laying some sort of trap, Peter was sure, and they needed to act before he could spring it.

The sound of engines in the sky above filled his heart with a burst of such hope it physically hurt, only to feel it drop into his stomach when instead of M-ships, a swarm of Kree fighters swooped down from the black sky. Where the hell were Yondu and the Ravagers? And where did all these ships come from? Nebula hadn't said anything about an entire squadron of fighters.

"Triple shit!" he shouted, running the fingers of his injured hand through his sweaty hair as he looked around desperately for cover.

"The city! Get to the buildings!" There was no where to take cover from the incoming ships in the courtyard. They had to get out into the rest of the facility.

Peter made a dash for the gateway, Groot and Drax falling into step behind him as the first round of fire rain downed from above. With his arms raised over his head to shield himself from the spray of dust and debris he almost missed the gravity mine placed in front of the door.

"Wait!" He slammed on the brakes so fast his feet skid on the dirt and he fell to his ass, arms thrown out to grab at his companions. The mine detonated a heartbeat later, throwing them back, but it was too far away to do any real damage and they were quickly on their feet again.

When Peter looked up Rocket had appeared at the side of the door, melting silently out of the shadows with two of those wicked electric disc pistols, aimed squarely at Peter and Drax.

"C'mon, Rocket. It's me, Peter." Peter tried, deactivating his mask and holding his free had out towards his friend, his blaster aimed at the ground. "I know you don't want to do this, buddy, so just put down your weapons and you can come with us. You can be free."

The white tips of his ears flashed as the Raccoon flicked his ears back, but he hadn't fired yet.

"That's right. We're friends. Just come with us. _Please?_ " he begged over the sound of the fire raining down around them. Groot was shielding them as best he could as the ships boxed them in.

For a moment he thought he saw his friend considering his proposition, and then a red light blinked to life under his jaw and he jerked back, dropping the blasters and clawing furiously at the collar. A high pitched keening noise filled the air as he thrashed about in the dust.

"GO! They won't be down for long!" came Nebula's shout from behind and suddenly Drax was grabbing his arm and sweeping him towards the door with the others.

"Rocket!" Peter screamed as he struggled against Drax's grip.

"Tree, do you think you can force open that door? The keypads won't work now."

"I am Groot!"

"No! Let me go!" Peter screamed again, kicking and flailing and beating against Drax's shoulder with his blaster as he was forcibly drug past Rocket's writhing body. Stretching his legs out he could just manage to brush the sole of his boots against his friend's tail before Drax picked him up and threw him over his shoulder, pinning his arms against his sides, and racing through the ripped open exit. "No! Go back! We have to go back! We can't leave him! Rocket! ROCKET!"

His screams fell on deaf ears as he was carried through the shadows of the alleyways, Rocket's high agonized whine and the pounding of the ship's fire fading away.

-x-

Drax didn't set him down until they had nearly reached the perimeter wall. On the other side lay the Milano and their ticket off of this creepy dirtball.

No sooner had his feet touched the ground than Peter was bolting back the way they had come. Drax seemed to be expecting this, however, and grabbed his arm roughly, keeping him with the group.

"We have to go back!" Peter cried for what felt like the umpteenth time.

"There's no time. We have to leave before they find us again," Nebula replied, peering around the corner of the wall they were currently tucked against, eyeing the open space between themselves and the access door, and the sky above.

"What did you do to him!?" he demanded, not bothering to conceal the anger in his voice.

Nebula looked affronted, and maybe a little bit hurt at his accusation, but Peter didn't care. He had been so damned close and they had _ruined_ it!

"I activated his obedience collar-"

"His obedience what-? You sick fucks! What is _wrong_ with you people!" He was letting the anger control him, could feel his common sense drowning in the rage, and knew that he was taking his emotions out on the wrong person, but between Groot's condition and whatever the hell they'd done to Rocket, Peter's patience was running on fumes here.

"What do you care about some uplifted rat!?" she spat back.

"Because he's my FRIEND, and this is WRONG!" He was straining against Drax's hold now and were it not for the heavy arm that tightened with a silent warning around his shoulders it might have come to blows then and there.

Whatever Nebula's reply was to that was, was lost under the roar of a massive ship skimming low over the city. Peter could feel the rumble through the wall behind him as Drax pressed them deeper into the shadows, one sweaty palm slapping over his mouth.

Peter was so busy glaring daggers at the back of Nebula's head that he didn't recognize the Warbird from Sakaar until she let out a string of creative curse words under her breath, her hands balling into fists.

"First Korath and now this? What the hell are they all doing here? How did they know we were coming?"

"It doesn't matter," Drax replied, voice calm and reasonable. "We will return to the ship and 'regroup', we can come back for the rodent another time."

Peter wanted to hate him for taking Nebula's side, but his earlier burst of rage was being dimmed by exhaustion and common sense. Drax's wound had stopped gushing, but he had still lost a large amount of blood, Groot was hunched over miserably as he cradled his missing limb, and even Nebula had the dark shadow of a bruise blooming across her cheek and blood smeared under her nose as though she had tried to swipe it away and failed to get it all. There was no way they could make it back there and not just get themselves captured, and then they would be no good to anybody, least of all Rocket.

The rumble of the Warbird faded across the city and they made a dash for the final doorway between themselves and escape. Drax hovered uncomfortably close as they ran, but had let him go, apparently sensing that they had won the argument for now.

Drax and Groot worked together to rip the door from its hinges while Nebula and Peter took out several automated lasers posted along the wall.

He wanted to apologize for his outburst, and he wanted to scream at her some more, so he kept his mouth shut and focused on the task at hand.

They were out of the main facility and dodging down the dusty alleys of the abandoned portion in no time. Swarms of fighters criss-crossed the sky above, searchlights scanning the empty city for their lost quarry. Miraculously, by the time they made it back they were still undetected.

The ship, unfortunately, was not.

The Milano was surrounded by foot-soldiers when it came into sight. The lights of several ships hovering above lit up the open space like a stadium.

Groot rushed in first, using his remaining arm to sweep a path clear for the others to rush in behind, scattering the remaining soldiers with a round of fire as Peter remotely activated the access ramp for them to race up.

Inside, Peter frantically activated the shield and weapon systems, bracing himself against the co-pilot's chair as the ship swayed and rattled under his feet from the fire it was taking.

The entire ship rocked so hard they all had to make a grab for the nearest sturdy object as one of the fighters above plummeted from the sky and landed with a fiery explosion beside them. A moment later the unmistakable shape of an M-ship swooped past their window.

"YES!" Peter hollered, as more M-ships joined them, dropping from the darkness to engage with the enemy ships so they could get the Milano off the ground and join the fray.

"Get your fool asses off that planet now!" Yondu's voice burst from a screen. "I ain't losin' any of my ships down there for your dumb hides!"

"Working on it," Nebula answered through clenched teeth, steering them up through the battle unfolding above. The bright orange and blue design of Peter's favorite ship stuck out like a sore thumb among the mottled browns and reds of the Eclector's crew ships and they quickly gathered a group of tag-a-longs.

"Quit swerving!" he snapped at Nebula as she dodged and rolled through the open sky. Below them the buildings grew fewer and farther between as their tail kept them from gaining too much altitude. "The Milano's faster than those Kree ships any day, just go straight!"

"Your shields are still damaged from the Warbird," she argued. "It can't take that many direct hits, we'll get shot down before we even leave the atmosphere."

"The shields will hold. Just go straight!" By now the landscape had morphed into a sparse sea of scraggly treetops glowing under the planet's moonlight and Peter was reaching as though to take the controls from her when a blinding light flooded the cockpit like a great wave. The whole ship shuddered as it hit and arcs of electricity danced across the controls before they blinked out entirely. Only a couple small screens showing nothing but flickering static lit up the room as the engines cut and they plummeted.

Impact was hard and they left a long trail of smashed trees in their wake as the Milano spun to a stop at the edge of a clearing. The loading ramp was buried and offline, so they had to crawl from the access hatch and onto the Milano's tilted hood as the Warbird blacked out the sky above, descending with a heavy roar to touch down gracefully beside them. Peter was still coughing from all the dust that had been kicked up when the Warbird's access hatch opened and out stepped a lone figure, silhouetted by the lights from within.

Even through his blurry eyes Peter knew that silhouette with absolute certainty; from the hair billowing like a storm cloud, to the curve of her waist, to the proud set of her shoulders as she stalked down the ramp.

"Gamora?" he whispered, wiping the dust as best he could from his vision.

Around him his companions tensed, the click of Nebula's batons reactivating and swish of Drax's blades being drawn were accompanied by Groot's resigned groan as he gathered himself once more. Gamora stopped just outside of the Milano's crater, the Godslayer balanced casually in one hand and her eyes flashing up at them like chips of ice in the moonlight.

"And here I was thinking our father had finally lost his mind when he said you would be coming here next." Her cold voice sent shivers down Peter's spine. "Enough with this silly game, sister. Give up the Star-lord and Thanos may show you mercy."

"Never!" Nebula howled back, connecting her batons into a staff and taking a running leap off of the ship's hull. Gamora swung the Godslayer up to meet her sister's weapon and they clashed in a burst of blue sparks.

Drax dove after her with a battle cry, apparently renewed by the chance to seek revenge against another of Thanos' children. Peter rushed to activate his boots and follow after them. He was already torn apart at leaving Rocket behind, he wasn't going to lose Gamora here, too.

"Guys! Hold on!"

Drax and Nebula worked as a pair to drive her back. Peter caught up to them as they skirted the edges of the first blackened trees, firing his blasters at the fighter's feet. Gamora flipped easily out of the way but he took advantage of the space that had opened up to slip between everyone.

"Hold up just one second!" Gamora was poised on her toes, but Peter had his blaster aimed square at her chest so she didn't immediately cut in. "Gamora, I know you probably don't remember me, but please just listen. We were friends once. More than that, we were a family, and we can be that here, too. I _know_ you hate Thanos. I _know_ you want to leave this life and this is your chance. Look at Nebula, she already left. Now it's your turn."

He gestured with his broken hand at Gamora's sister who was looking at him like he had sprouted an extra head, or six.

"Just put away your sword and come with us. It's that easy."

" _What are you doing?_!" Nebula's outraged screech came from behind. " _Get away from her!_ "

"Relax. I can handle- _Flark!_ " Peter had glanced back to address Nebula and Gamora had seized the opportunity to rush in. He'd turned back just in time the see the flat side of the Godslayer swinging straight for his face like a baseball bat. Peter's attempt to dodge wasn't quick enough and the blow sent him sprawling backwards and seeing spots.

Gamora stepped forward and he was only saved from her next blow by Nebula who shoved between them with a snarl, raising her batons to meet the sword in another shower of sparks that rained down on Peter's legs. While the sisters spiraled away in a storm of sparks and curse words Drax helped him to his feet.

"Ravagers, rodents, and now a _second_ child of Thanos?!" he growled into Peter's ear. "I knew you were mad, Peter Quill, and I was willing to overlook it for the sake of my revenge, but you are even more far gone than I had feared if you believe I will allow that filthy whore to step foot on our ship."

"Look, I know it's a lot to ask, but you'll just have to trust me. Gamora doesn't want to work for Thanos any more than Nebula did, they're both just victims, like us."

Drax did not look at all mollified by this response, staring down at him silently with his arms crossed.

"This is the last time, I swear," he pleaded. "Just help me save Gamora and Rocket and we'll have the whole team together again and we can fix this. All of this. Everything will go back to normal."

Drax had turned his attention to something over Peter's shoulder.

"I don't think Gamora is the one who needs saving." The ominous words sent a chill down his spine as he spun around to see the two sisters grappling in the dirt.

At first Peter couldn't make out any details past the trail of flames that had sprung up in the brittle grass around them, but as his eyes adjusted the silhouettes took the form of Gamora kneeling over her sister, one knee pressed down on her sternum while she leaned her full weight onto the hilt of the Godslayer. Nebula had both of her hands wrapped around the blade, now slick and shining with blood, as it inched down, the very tip pressing against the base of her throat.

"Stop!" Peter crossed the distance without even realizing what he was doing and tackled Gamora, grabbing her around the waist and ripping her off her sister. The heel of her boot came down on his shin with such force he let out a yelp and threw her to the ground, slamming her into the dirt with his shoulder and trying to grab her arms and pin them against her sides.

"Gamora! Gamora listen to me!" An elbow caught him in the gut. "Just calm down-"

Gamora threw her head back, smashing into his face with her skull and flipping over underneath him so she could tuck her legs up to her chest and resolutely kick him off. Peter staggered backward but managed to stay on his feet and get his blaster raised up between them by the time the green assassin was up and balanced on the balls of her feet once more.

The flames around them had grown larger, the shadows dancing across Gamora's face and obscuring her expression as she adjusted the grip on her weapon. Drax and Nebula had stepped in, trapping their enemy against the ring of flames, while Groot hovered anxiously out of reach of the fire.

In the flickering light he saw her reach for something on her belt and the Warbird behind them rumbled back to life.

Peter's heart sank to his boots as the battleship rose from the ground. He had been running and fighting for what felt like hours, and on top of that was the shock of finding and subsequently losing Rocket and now Gamora, he didn't know how much fight he actually had left in him.

As he steeled himself and dragged up whatever dregs of energy he had left in him, a thin red beam shot from the sky light a bolt of lightning and the warbird dropped back down with an explosion that shook the ground and sent out a shock wave so hard it nearly sent them all sprawling. From over the smoldering remains of the Warbird descended the Eclector its self, lowering down slowly while a swarm of M-ships buzzed low over the field, swirling around the downed Milano and circling the group of fighters with the weapons aimed at the green assassin still trapped in the flames.

There was a flash of white as Gamora bared her teeth in an ugly snarl and curled her shoulders in. Things were clearly not going according to her plans.

"Gamora, please!" Peter called over the crackle of flame and buzzing of the engines above. His voice was hoarse from the smoke and creeping exhaustion. "Just come with us, and help us make this right!"

Peter put his blaster away and stepped forward, palm open as the Eclector rumbled over their heads. A soft beam of light washed over the Milano, lifting it from the crater.

"Last chance," Peter said, stopping in front of the woman he loved with his hand outstretched. It wasn't the last chance. He would ask her a thousand times more if he had to. And a thousand times after that.

There was a long silence where Peter was just staring into the shadows of her face and listening to his own heart pound in his ears so loudly that it drowned everything else out, willing her to take his hand. He barely managed to stop himself from flinching when the Godslayer suddenly retracted with a click, and a warm hand was placed in his. It was rough and calloused from years of hard work, and sweaty from the battle they had just fought, and it was the first thing since coming to this terrible place that had felt right.

****End** **

 

 

.

**Chapter 9 Teaser:** "... _I have slept in much worse conditions."_

_"Yeah, that's, not as reassuring as you think it is." He told her with an easy laugh as he smoothed out some non-existent kinks in the foam._

_"I will be fine." She assured him in a softer tone with what may have been the ghost of a ghost of a smile._

_If he squinted..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! What a wild ride. Don't panic about Peter not getting Rocket back yet, we're a long long ways from the end. There are a few more things I need to happen [to him] before we can have him back in the main crew on a more permanent basis, but he will be back before you know it. He's my fav and as such, he must suffer. On the bright side, for a brief moment the whole team was on Half-world all at once. (Minus Mantis if we're going by Vol2)
> 
> I appreciate any feedback! It keeps me motivated and inspired. And don't be afraid to speak up if you see an inconsistency or issue. I write and edit mostly late at night after work, so I'm kinda tired and loopy.
> 
> Thanks for continuing to read!
> 
> -OMaM


	9. No Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has gained two members, but their time for celebration is spent recovering from the battle, both physically and mentally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update and rambling chapter. It's been a very long week. This is the busy season at one job and at the other one we've had some very stressful cases and a couple emergency surgeries. I've been spending a lot of time just destressing with Overwatch, time I usually spend on writing and editing. I debated skipping the update this week entirely as this chapter and the next were originally one, and there were some scenes and details that I was still working out. I think I have them all hammered down, or at least I'll live with the choices I have made.
> 
> This chapter is titled for "No Answers" by Amber Run. The lyrics and tune fit nicely with the story, and it has some double meanings as well, so it worked out great.
> 
> I do not own Marvel or the Guardians, this is purely a fanwork for entertainment.

** **Chapter 9: No Answers** **

Peter hadn't let go of Gamora's hand as he lead her back to the Milano which they rode up as the tractor beam pulled it into the Eclector's loading bay.

A torrent of emotions wrestled one another in his chest. He wanted to be excited, to celebrate the small victory over Thanos and the near completion of his team, but a sourness had taken over the air. No words of congratulations or cheers of relief were exchanged in the Milano's creaking hull. Nebula vanished without a word into the many halls of the Eclector before the ramp had even settled onto the floor of the bay. Groot had looked for a moment as though he wanted to ask Peter something, but after a shifting his weight side to side a few times he simply made his way into a dark corner where he curled in on himself. Drax lingered on the ship just long enough to gather his whetting stone and give Gamora long considerate stare before assuring Peter that he would not be far if he should need help and taking his own leave.

Yondu was, to put it mildly, less than pleased that Peter had somehow managed to return with a second assassin in tow. After much arguing and more than a few threats to leave them stranded on the nearest moon or sell them all as a lot to Ronan, they reached a tentative agreement that Gamora could stay on the condition that all her weapons be confiscated for the duration of her stay, that she would spend the first day in the holding cell, and that she would be wearing a tracker while she was on the ship. The assassin seemed to have no real objection to this, accepting the terms with more grace than Peter, who had sputtered at the thought of locking her up.

"I can't believe they're making you stay in here. I'm so sorry." Peter apologized for the hundredth time as he unrolled a mattress in the makeshift prison. Gamora just shrugged her shoulders, the blanket folded neatly in her arms wrinkling with the gesture.

"I have slept in much worse conditions."

"Yeah, that's, not as reassuring as you think it is," he told her with an easy laugh as he smoothed out some non-existent kinks in the foam.

"I will be fine," she assured him in a softer tone with what may have been the ghost of a ghost of a smile.

If he squinted.

"I know but... I'll be close if you need anything." He had originally planned to just bunk the night in the spacious cell along with her, but it had been a deal-breaker for the ravager captain. He was so tired and disheartened that he didn't even have it in him to argue the point. Plus, Gamora would probably not appreciate the gesture as the extension of friendship he was going for.

A huge yawn reminded Peter of just how badly his body needed to rest. Standing up from the perfectly flat mattress Peter chewed on his lip briefly, trying to think of something to say here but his brain was just spitting out steam now.

"Well, goodnight," he said lamely before turning and exiting the cell. Kraglin shut the door and locked it behind him.

"As long as she don't cause no trouble, I'm sure she'll be out of there in no time," Kraglin offered as he followed Peter to where he had set up his makeshift bed just around the corner. "The cap's just tryna look out for everyone, you know that."

"I know. I do. Just... have a good night Kraglin," he sighed, flopping onto his own mattress and practically melting into it. The weight of the day seemed to crash down on him all at once like a tidal wave and he was out before the first mate's footsteps had faded down the hall.

-x-

On nights like this, when Peter crashed from exhaustion, he typically fell deep into a dreamless void of blissful nothingness until he woke. This night, however, he dreamed. He dreamed of swirling colors and distorted voices singing along to an unfamiliar tune. At some point he stood in the courtyard once more, spotlights all turned to him until their heat was unbearable, burning the color from his skin. Across the court, impossibly lit up in the shadows was Rocket, just as he had last seen him. Peter's heart skipped a beat and as he watched, small hands reached up to remove the muzzle. Free of the cage, Rocket's lips peeled back into a wicked smile, teeth sparkling as they parted.

" ** **PEEEETER****." Ego's voice called out in a deep sing-song tune. The shock of his father's voice coming from his friend's mouth was enough to make him stumble back, but when he stepped out of the circle of lights his boot landed on nothing and he was falling. There were no boosters on his boots to save him as he spiraled in and out of distant voices, calling, singing, laughing, weeping, and tattered half-formed emotions that all smeared together, until eventually even that faded away and he was finally left to rest in peace.

-x-

The next morning started out pretty quiet and uneventful. After dragging his aching body to its feet and checking on Gamora, who was feigning sleep, he stumbled his way down to the galley to fetch them breakfast.

"Knock knock," Peter called out, a tray full of food from the kitchen balanced in each hand. Gamora glanced up at him through thick lashes before rolling gracefully to her feet. He knew she'd been faking it.

"Breakfast?" he asked cheerfully, sliding the tray under the door for her to take.

"Thank you," she murmured, accepting it without hesitation but giving it a long look once it was in her hands.

"It's not poisoned, I promise. You can have mine instead if you want." He wiggled the tray balanced precariously in his casted hand for emphasis.

"No, this is fine." She didn't mention that the nanobots in her bloodstream would filter out any poison anyways. Peter decided not to mention it either.

"So, Star-lord-"

"Peter. My real name is Peter Quill."

"So, Peter Quill," She started, taking a seat on a nearby crate and crossing her legs, placing the tray carefully in her lap, "why don't you tell me who you are, and why you seem to think we're friends?"

Peter looked around briefly for something to sit on himself, but when nothing appeared he gave up with a shrug and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the door.

"Well, I guess, we're not. But we were, or we should be? I don't really understand it myself, but in the reality I come from we met on the planet Xandar after you had decided to defect from Thanos. Y'see -ahm- You see, I'm somewhat of a legendary outlaw, and I had stolen the map to the Infinity Stone- although I didn't know that's what it was then- and beat Ronan to it, and you were going to steal it from me so you could sell it to some collector guy. Except in the middle of our fight we got attacked by a couple of bounty hunters and we all got thrown into the Kyln together where we met Drax-that big guy with the tatoos-, and well, we kind of ended up saving Xandar and becoming known as the Guardians of the Galaxy." Peter took a long sip from his mug as he finished and willed Gamora to believe him.

"And why would I just suddenly betray Thanos then of all times?" she asked. It seemed like a strange first question to Peter. Not one he was expecting, at least.

"You told me Thanos killed your parents right in front of you, that he tortured you and turned you into a weapon, and you couldn't just sit back and watch while he wiped out an entire planet. I guess when the orb -the Infinity Stone- came onto the scene, you saw your chance." Peter shrugged. To be honest, Peter wasn't entirely sure as to the depths of her motives himself. He had always figured that she had just left that mad man's rule at the first opportunity. The money that the collector offered was certainly enough to allow anyone to vanish if they wished. For a moment he thought he saw something dark flicker across her face, but it was there and gone before he could identify it, if it was there at all.

"I see."Gamora took a bite of what Peter fondly referred to as 'ravager gruel' and chewed it thoughtfully.

"And this is your chance, again, to join me, to join us, and turn things back the way they should be. We can save Xandar, the Nova Corps, and everyone else that Ronan has killed since then."

"And how exactly do you intend to take on the Titan himself?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. This was the first time someone had asked him that with genuine curiosity instead of sarcasm.

"With the Infinity Stone we stole from Ronan. You, me, and the other Guardians held it and used its power to destroy Ronan. We can do it again, I know we can, if we can get the whole team together." Something plucked cruelly at his heartstrings at the thought of his almost complete team and the last missing member, and he found himself pausing to swallow a lump in his throat.

"How did we manage to wield an Infinity Stone and survive?" She asked, her voice hushed as she leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Yeah, I was confused about that at first, too, but it turns out I-"

"Peter! There you are!" Kraglin came trotting around the corner just then, looking like he'd been jogging for a while. Peter was a little miffed at having their moment ruined, but he didn't want Yondu to find out that Peter knew about his father, so he supposed the conversation was over for now.

"Hey Kraglin."

"Sorry to int'rupt your time with the pri-sah- the guest, but the Cap' was hopin' to have another conversation now that you're r'covered enough after the fight."

Peter snorted at that. The conversation Yondu wanted was more than likely just yelling at him some more about the cost of ship repairs and the risk he was taking harboring a fugitive from both Thanos and whatever other authorities had bounties on her head.

"Yeah, yeah. Might as well get it over with." Peter rose and stretched the tingling from his legs. "I'll be back for lunch," he promised Gamora with a wink before following Kraglin back the way he'd come, shoveling food into his mouth as he walked.

-x-

The conversation with Yondu went about as well as he could have hoped. After he got his fill of verbally lashing Peter, they eventually settled down into talking actual business. For now, Yondu planned to lay pretty low. They'd made a couple jumps while Peter was out, but they were still pretty deep into what Yondu referred to as 'Ronan's territory.' Supposedly, there was a contact that was pretty trusted who they were working to arrange a drop with to dump the evidence of their raid pretty quickly.

Until then, they were drifting through some poorly charted systems that afforded easy hiding while they repaired their ships. The Milano, it seemed, was down for the count after whatever that beam had done to its systems. It looked like they were making the Eclector their home for the time being.

After his meeting with Yondu, Peter made his way to check on his ship in person.

The Milano was right where he had left it the night before, held up by cables rather than its own landing system which had been unable to deploy. Its vibrant colors were muted under a layer of the same ashen dust that had covered the outer facilities of Half-world, and the gears to the access ramp, which had been manually forced open, were impacted with dirt. Overall, it was a pretty depressing sight to behold. The inside did little to change that impression. No lights were working, so he'd had to stumble around with just the light that filtered in from the bay.

As he dug around in the emergency kit for the glow-sticks and waited for his eyes to begin adjusting, something in the corner moved. Peter nearly dropped the entire kit as he spun to face the threat, only to let out a breath of relief when he recognized Groot's hunched up silhouette.

"Hey Groot. You startled me, lurking in the shadows like that," Peter chastised as he fished a handful of glow-sticks out.

"I am Groot." Came the wispy reply.

"You're hiding silently in a dark corner of an unlit ship. That's basically lurking."

"I am Groot." His voice was like wind rattling through a dead forest.

An idea struck and Peter snapped several of the sticks, activating them and lining them up along the ceiling with the attached magnets to provide him with some makeshift lighting. It was far from ideal, but he could make out what he needed.

Down by his knees was a panel about 5 feet long. Behind it was the water tank that fed into the small kitchen area. Crouching down, he felt along the edges until he found the little divet he was looking for and pried it open with a screwdriver from the kit he'd placed down beside him. The tank was designed to come out manually and allow crew members access to water in the event of a crash or system failure. After turning a couple knobs to block the flow between the pipes, he grabbed the handle that was built into the 20-gallon storage tank and hauled it out of the wall.

"Here you go, bud. This'll help you feel better." Groot looked up with an almost heartbreaking expression of hope as Peter dragged the tank across the floor to him. 20 gallons were heavy. Once he had the tank settled at Groot's side he unscrewed a lid from the top and Groot uncurled to dip his arm into the water. Peter was surprised to see that during his rest, he had made no attempt to regrow the arm that had been cut off. A wave of shame washed over him when he realized that he had been so distracted with Gamora and his own exhaustion that he hadn't even thought to do this before.

Groot quickly drained the tub and Peter lifted the now very light container, and slid it back into the wall to fill it up again. They went through another tank and a half before the Colossus seemed to have had his fill, curling up into a looser expression of the pose he'd found him in. Peter thought he looked a little better, but it was hard to tell under the faint green glow of the tubes above.

After their victory on Xandar, Rocket had rigged up a set of specialized high UVA/B lights just for Groot that had helped him grow. All space faring ships had a standardized low level of UV for the crew's health, but with Groot's condition, he would probably be better off with the higher powered ones. The lights on the Milano right now were useless, but the Ravagers might still have some plant lights stowed away somewhere from a brief period in which a few of them had decided to take up an illegal form of botany. Yondu had come down on them like a hammer when he found them wasting the ship's resources on 'recreational activities,' but he doubted the lights would have just been jettisoned.

"How does a little plant light sound, bud?" he asked.

"I am Groot!" Groot's eyes had lost the sunken faded appearance and Peter was pretty sure that if he leaned in he could make out entire galaxies in the huge puppy dog eyes that shone up at him.

By the time Peter had tracked down the old lights - buried under about an inch of dust in the very back of one of the lower storage units - and set them up in an out-of-the-way-but-still-close room, his stomach was starting to rumble. A half a dozen lamps sat wherever they could fit among the shelving in what was probably once a janitorial closet, but appeared to be used to store outdated ship parts nowadays. Groot was settled happily underneath them, eyes closed and looking almost content as he soaked up their beams.

"Alright bud. You stay here as long as you like. The hangar is just down the hallway, third access door on the right and up a small flight of stairs. Got it?"

Groot just hummed and nodded his head once.

"Great. I'm going to go grab myself some lunch and check on Gamora. I'll be working on repairs later, so if you need me just go to the ship." With that he backed out of the room and made his way back to the main kitchen, whistling tunes as he went.

-x-

The crew was certainly feeling their oats after the firefight and Peter easily scored a hearty meal piled high with meat and veggies and a mug of Ravager's beer, and a twin platter with water for Gamora which he balanced across his bad arm.

The smell of the food was torture as he hurried towards Gamora's cell. His stomach was starting to speak in tongues by the time he made it around the last corner to find her doing push ups on the floor of the holding room.

"I brought lunch," he called, sliding her tray under the door like he had that morning. While she stood and stretched languidly, Peter flopped down in front of the door and finally tucked into his own food.

"Thank you," she said in a soft voice when she finally took her tray and joined him, mirroring his position on her side of the bars.

"S'no pwoblm," he mumbled out, still not looking up as he scarfed down his lunch.

"Not for the lunch." Peter finally paused and glanced up to see her staring at him intently, tray balancing, untouched, across her lap. "For... Halfworld."

Peter swallowed his last bite and sat up straighter to meet her gaze, his fork clinking softly as he rested it against his own tray.

"Really, it was no problem. I am just so happy to have you back. I've missed you."

The tug on the corner of her lips definitely wasn't his imagination this time, and neither was the way her eyes softened just the tiniest bit before she broke from his gaze to study her own plate of food.

"Regardless, I am grateful for what you have done for me."

They ate in silence for a while after that, but when Peter had finished his meal he found he didn't want to leave just yet.

"Would you mind if I asked you something?"

"Of course not. What do you need to know?" she answered, placing her fork across her tray and sliding it back out, apparently done eating. He wasn't used to her being so formal, usually there was at least a layer of good-natured challenge or 'your an idiot Peter' to all of their conversations, but then, this Gamora hadn't been through hell and back with him, didn't know that he had nearly died for her, and was locked up in a fake prison cell on a ship overflowing with ravagers and maniacs. He didn't blame her for playing it close to the vest and testing the waters.

"I was hoping you could tell me more about this Halfworld place. About... the security there."

"You're worried about your friend."

"Yeah, how did you know?" he asked, surprised.

"I pieced it together," she said with a mysterious grin. "I was watching the security feeds from my ship. And you talk in your sleep. Quite loudly."

Peter frowned at that. He'd certainly been known to mumble nonsense phrases from time to time, and had once woke an entire room of ravagers including himself by screaming about Mars and a plate of Spaghetti, but it was rare that it ever made any sense. When he thought back to the dreams he'd been having, however, a shudder ran through his body. Who knows what he could have been mumbling about.

"What was I saying?" he asked hesitantly, a heat creeping across his face.

"Nothing uncouth," she assured him with a quick smile. "You spoke of leaving someone behind. Cried for your team to turn around over and over. I guess they didn't listen."

"No," Peter sighed, pulling Gamora's half-eaten tray over and stacking it on top of his empty one. "They didn't."

"After that you called out to your father before falling silent."

Peter was suddenly glad that he had finished his food already because the thought of calling out to that bastard, unconscious or not, cured any appetite he had left.

"Who did you leave behind?" Her soft tone was like a balm on his rattled nerves.

"Rocket. One of the guards. About yay big, striped tail, round ears." Peter mumbled, gesturing to just over his shoulder height as he sat, shoulders sagging slightly. He had lost his earlier good mood.

Gamora tilted her head slightly and pursed her lips.

"I don't know much about that place, or the guards. I never spent a lot of time there. But I am sure that your friend is fine. Korath will be much too busy hunting us down to worry about a guard that you have no connection to."

"Okay. Thanks." Her answer didn't make him feel much better. His friend was still trapped on that barren ball of ash that was probably made out of all his worst fears. Willing or not, he had left his best friend in his own personal hell. Sitting here sulking wasn't going to help, though. The sooner he got the Milano up and running, the sooner they could figure out a plan to get back there. With a fresh wave of purpose Peter grabbed the trays and stood.

"I'm going to go work on my ship, but I'll be back again. Thanks for answering my questions."

"Of course." She smiled back.

-x-

Repairing the ship proved a lot harder than he had expected. With a strangled growl Peter threw the wrench he had been holding across the dim cockpit to bang against the far wall and clatter to the floor. Whatever that beam had done had fried all the systems. He'd been working for hours and still couldn't get even one screen to flicker to life. At this point he would throw a party if he could get a wire to so much as spit out a spark at him. If he wasn't so attached to his ship he would have declared it totaled.

He could do the basic maintenance and repairs in his sleep, but this was beyond his expertise. This was really more up Rocket's alley, or even Nebula, who seemed to have a pretty strong grasp of mechanics. The thought of the blue assassin brought up a fresh wave of annoyance. She'd been so scarce since the battle that had it not been for Kraglin's reassurance that she was still around, he would have assumed she'd stolen a ship and abandoned them all. He had some questions about Rocket and Halfworld that only she could answer, and at some point he would have to actually apologize to her face for his outburst, but she had remained stubbornly absent.

With a gusty sigh he flopped into the pilot's chair and closed his eyes. He didn't have time for this. Every hour he spent on the Eclector it drifted further from the Keystone Quadrant.

He must have drifted off without realizing it, because he awoke some time later to find Nebula standing over his chair, the orb with the infinity stone held up in her mechanical hand. For a brief delirious moment he thought she was there to kill him in his sleep and flinched back in the seat so hard it actually hurt.

"Geeze! Nebula! Don't do that!" he shouted as soon as he could form words.

"We have a problem," was her only response.

"Yeah," he gasped out, holding a hand up to his hammering heart. "It's that you're a psycho and I think you just shaved five years off of my life."

"No, it's that that beam disabled the orb containing the infinity stone, and all of the other ones that had been on this ship as well." Now that Peter looked closer, he noticed a faint purple light leaking from the seams of the orb. The tips of her cybernetic fingers were also laced with a few spiderwebs of purple where they met with the failing containment unit.

"Shit," he hissed, elbowing her out of the way so he could get up. "Yondu must have some working ones around here somewhere. I'll go look for one. I could use a break from this anyways." He waved his hands with exasperation at the dormant ship around them before stalking down the ladder.

"Just stay here," He called out over his shoulder. "I don't want anyone else knowing about that D'ast thing."

Finding a new containment unit for the Infinity Stone took much longer than it necessarily should have. Mostly because Peter couldn't just ask where one was. All news got back to Yondu, one way or another, and he didn't want to get stuck explaining this one.

Eventually he uprooted one from the depths of a crate full of smuggling supplies and hid it against his side as he made his way back. One perk to his broken finger was that no one questioned him as he awkwardly hugged the casted hand to his side. At least the pain had mostly subsided from his poor attempt at a landing, no damage had been done and it continued to heal well enough.

The sight of Drax sitting on the access ramp, several healing packs attached to his side and covering the hole on his neck, and Kraglin standing on the bay floor beside him, greeted him on his return. They appeared to be in the middle of a discussion, but their voices cut out as Peter drew near.

"Hey Pete," Kraglin called, giving him a little wave.

"Oh, hey Kraglin. What's going on?" Peter shifted to make sure that the unit was completely hidden from the first mate's view.

"Nothin' much. Just checkin' on how the repairs are goin'. Your arm buggin' you?"

"No, no, I mean, yes. Kinda. No big deal, though." Peter circled his way up the ramp as he spoke. Kraglin's eyebrows crept towards his hairline as he tracked Peter's progress, but he made no move to follow or stop him. "I'll just, duck inside real quick. Gotta grab some pain meds, or something. Be right back."

As soon as he was out of sight he shot up the ladder, taking it two rungs at a time. With the light that filtered in through the dusty windows he was surprised to find Nebula laying on her back and buried waist deep in the control panel.

He was debating how best to get her attention without getting kicked for his efforts when she seemed to sense he was near and slid herself out from the tangle of wires.

"Did you find one?" she demanded, sitting up.

"Yeah. This should hold it for a while." He handed her the new unit and watched as she leaned back to grab the stone from where she had hidden it inside of the console with herself. Careful to only handle it with her cybernetic hand, she managed to open the disabled orb and slam the new one down on the exposed stone before it could make a grab for the nearest lifeforms. The stone was probably exposed for less than a second, but in that blink Peter was again thrown back into the void. This time he swore he could hear the voices from his dreams calling out to him and feel something reaching for him. Whatever it was struck a terror in him so deep he couldn't breath. A huge shuddering gasp left him as he returned to the Milano's bay and he had to grip one of the seats to keep from falling down.

" _Peter!_ " Nebula called out, the concern in her voice was the first emotion he'd heard since the cold indifference she had treated him with since Halfworld.

By the time he found his breath and gathered himself enough to force out an 'I'm fine,' it was gone again, and she was staring up at him with those eyes that were impossible to read in the shadows.

"The ship's engines are completely fried," she informed him, back to empty indifference as though none of the last twenty seconds had happened. "I believe that it would be best to scrap it and find a new vessel."

"I won't do that," he promised, crossing his arms stubbornly and preparing to defend his ship to the death. The corner of her mouth twitched as though she had been expecting that response and rather than try to argue her point, she actually reclined back and returned to fiddling with the exposed wiring. With no clue what to make of her sudden compliance, he decided to just go with it. He had a better shot at fixing the ship entirely on his own than he did understanding Gamora's angry sister.

"Alright, well, I promised Kraglin I'd be back so I'd better go before he gets suspicious." As he spoke he stumbled his way backwards towards the ladder. "Just holler if you need anything I guess?" The only answer he got was a grunt that could just as easily been her struggling with the wiring as it was an actual response to him. Peter ducked down into the common room below, more than happy to leave the stone behind him for now.

Down below, Drax was as he had left him, but Kraglin seemed to have left. There was no sign of him in the hangar as far as Peter could see.

"Hey Drax," Peter greeted, taking a seat next to his friend on the ramp and staring aimlessly out into the open bay. "How're you doing?"

"I am well. My wounds have been seen to and do not bother me." The red soaking through the bandage on his neck made Peter think otherwise, but he wisely stayed silent on the matter. The sight also reminded him that he needed to talk to the ship's tailor about fixing the bloody stain on the inside of his duster.

"How are your latest companions?" Drax asked.

"Groot's healing up. I set up a sunning room for him. Gamora's settling in fine as well. She should be out as long as she's supervised by the next cycle. I'll be taking her dinner in a bit if you want to join us?"

"No. I am content here. And I would advise you to be careful of her trickery. You are filled with optimism and false ideas of friendship, and it makes you stupid."

"Wow. Geeze. Thanks Drax," Peter replied, unamused.

"You are most welcome." As usual, Drax saw nothing wrong with his blunt but honest words and took Peter's sarcastic thanks as true gratitude. Sometimes Peter entertained the notion that Drax did understand his sarcastic quips and did this just to annoy him.

"I'm sure I'll be fine. Yeah, she's the most dangerous woman in the galaxy, but why would she want to do anything to hurt us? Thanos destroyed her home, killed her family, just like he killed yours. She is literally the last of her people, and has no reason to be loyal to him now that she's free."

"And how do you know she won't simply vanish as soon as we reach the next planet?"

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times before answering that one. It was a fair point. Gamora hadn't actually been looking for help when they'd first met. Forming the Guardians had only become necessary when the Orb was taken back by Ronan, and all of Xandar and the safety of the galaxy was at risk.

"We have an opportunity to save millions of lives, and the means to do it. She'll help us."

Drax didn't look at all convinced.

"If you don't believe me just wait and see for yourself. As soon as the Milano is fixed, you, me, Groot, Nebula and Gamora are going back to Halfword and saving Rocket, and you'll be glad to have her watching your back."

"Why would she be watching my back if not to stab me in it?" Drax scrunched his brows together in confusion.

"It's a saying, it just means-"

"I would feel much better if she were watching the enemy."

"She would be, I just meant-"

"Or the surroundings, if there were no enemies in sight."

"Please stop. I just meant that she would come in- that she would be very helpful to have during a fight since she is very skilled. I don't think we'll be convincing Yondu to go back there any time soon."

"Regardless, we will need a ship for our assault. I would suggest one equipped for a larger crew."

"Not happening. We saved the galaxy once in the old Milano, and we can do it again. I'm not losing my ship."

Drax just gave an exasperated shrug. "The entire thing has been broken. How long will it take to repair it?"

"If Rocket were here, he'd probably have it flying already," Peter thought out loud as he pulled his knees towards his chest. "For now we just have to wait and see what Nebula can do for it. If I can catch one of the ship mechanics I'll see if they have any suggestions, but everyone's pretty busy with repairs to the main fleet."

Drax nodded his head slightly and Peter could sense this conversation was coming to an end.

"It's getting pretty late," he stated, standing up from his seat on the ramp." I'm going to go check on Groot and have dinner with Gamora. The offer to join us is still open."

With that he turned and wandered off towards the staircase that would lead him to Groot's sunning room. He always hating waiting, but at least things were getting done, and next cycle Gamora should be able to come with him around the ship, so he would focus on that small victory for now.

****End** **

 

 

**Chapter 10 teaser:** "... _There was a heat rising on his face and a hammering in his heart as he tried to convince himself that he wasn't betraying Gamora. She was fine. She would understand once he had a chance to explain it to her. But Yondu just spared him his own sneer before snatching the keys from Kraglin, who jumped slightly at the sudden swipe, and marched pointedly down the hall._

_"I don't know when my orders started to become suggestions 'round here, but it better stop! I don't just give them out because I like the sound of my own voice_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one. It was a pretty crappy week, so I definitely feel like I didn't pour as much into this one as the other ones, but I need to keep moving forward. But we're really close to one of the main scenes I had in mind when I started this project, so I'm pretty excited for that. Next week should be a much better week. I have a much lighter schedule until Thursday so hopefully I can catch up on my writing. I only have 1k of the next one done so far.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> -OMaM


	10. Wolves Without Teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10! I've actually written 10 chapters! And officially reached the 50k NaNoWriMo goal! Only 3 months late. Ha! Sorry, I'm a little excited.
> 
> I'm going to start referring to these little sections as 'wind up' chapters. I actually enjoy writing them the most. This one is a bit shorter, since it was supposed to be one big chapter with 9 that got away from me. There's still a few bits I don't like, but I'm exhausted and I can't edit anymore. It's named after the song "Wolves Without Teeth" by Of Monsters and Men, the lyrics representing both Peter's feelings for Gamora during the chapter and the relationship between the sisters themselves(And a pun about Gamora's confiscated weapons because I'm weak.). I feel like it lost some of its meaning when I split the chapter, and it will probably make more sense once chapter 11 is up, but oh well.
> 
> I have no claim to GotG or Marvel, I am writing this purely for entertainment.

****Chapter 10: Wolves Without Teeth** **

The next cycle, Peter was relieved to awaken without the lingering memories of any dreams clinging to him like sticky spiderwebs in the morning. He woke feeling refreshed, the ache of his sore muscles from the jaunt on Halfworld was hardly more than a memory, and even the ache in his finger felt duller as it continued to heal. He made a mental note to scan it later and check the progress of the fracture. He couldn't wait to get this bulky cast off, although he'd be sad to lose to the little doodles that covered it. It was like having his crew follow him wherever he went.

As Peter rose from his makeshift bed and popped his back, the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway caught his attention. It was probably what had caused him to wake up. Covering a giant yawn with his hand, he rose and went to meet the source of the noise.

Yondu strolled into sight around the next turn, followed quickly by Kraglin and Horuz, who had his nose scrunched up and his thick brows furrowed so that his eyes were hardly more than little dots shining out from beneath them. Judging by the mass of jingling keys held in Kraglin's hand, they were her to make good on Yondu's promise to release Gamora from the makeshift prison.

"Mornin,'" Peter greeted with a wide grin and a small wave. Kraglin gave a little wave back.

"Good Mornin Pete-"

"Are we really doing this?" Horuz interrupted, stepping forward with a slam of his boot. "Two of Thanos's assassins running wild on our ship! And so soon after we raided one of his outposts? This was a stupid risk, stirring up trouble we don't need. You're coddling that d'ast boy!"

"Shut it Horuz!" Yondu snapped, giving him a hard shove back. "I'm the captain of this vessel and you would do well to remember that before questionin' my orders. You're down here for one reason, so you do your job and keep your trap shut"

Peter's smile died on his face as he saw the mutinous look cross Horuz's face. Yondu's blatant favoritism was what had ultimately lead to his crew's upheaval and the death of nearly everyone that Peter had known growing up. Suddenly, letting Gamora out of the makeshift prison in such a rush didn't seem so vital.

"Look, it's fine. We don't have to do this." He almost couldn't believe his own ears as the words left his lips. "Gamora seems fine. I can talk to her, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind staying in there for another cycle or two..."

There was a heat rising on his face and a hammering in his heart as he tried to convince himself that he wasn't outright betraying Gamora. She was fine. She would understand once he had a chance to explain it to her. But Yondu just spared him his own sneer before snatching the keys from Kraglin, who jumped slightly at the sudden swipe, and marched pointedly down the hall.

"I don't know when my orders started to become suggestions 'round here, but it stops now!" he threw over his shoulder. "I don't just give them out because I like the sound of my own voice."

Peter fell in step with his ex-clansmen as they jogged to catch up with their leader.

"Hey, Assassin!" Yondu barked out, fixing the woman in question with his best threatening glare. "I'm here to make good on my word and let'chu out for... supervised visits. But you step one green toe out of line and it'll be cut off 'fore you know what happened. You here me?"

Gamora, who was standing with her arms crossed in the center of her cell, lifted her chin defiantly. "And what makes you so confident that you can threaten me?" she asked, but she looked much more bemused than pissed.

There was short sharp whistle and a flash of red, and Yondu's arrow was pressed against her throat, spinning languidly in the air as the trail of light behind it faded away. "You watch yourself," he warned. "Or you'll be dead looong 'fore you reach that little knife you have hidden there."

Gamora's hand had moved so quickly Peter hadn't even seen it happen. It was now hovering over her right hip along a seam in her outfit.

"What? You think I didn't know all about that toothpick you smuggled in?" Yondu had a smug smile warring with his stern expression now. He'd won this round and he knew it. "Now out there you may be the most feared woman in the galaxy, but on my ship you're just one more wayward nuisance that drifted its way onboard. Try not to be too much of a nuisance, or you'll find yourself floatin' out the airlock with the rest of the trash that isn't worth the trouble it causes me."

Yondu lifted the side of his coat and gave a short whistle, the arrow obediently returning to its holster.

"So, do we have an understanding?" he asked.

Gamora, glanced over the captain and the rest of the tiny crew behind him, eyes lingering for a moment when they met with Peter's, before returning to Yondu.

"I believe we do," she answered in a measured tone, straightening back up and crossing her arms once more.

"Good. Then we can get on with this and I can get back to runnin' my ship. Kraglin."

Horuz gave an angry huff as Kraglin took the keys back and fumbled with them to unlock the door and swing it open, stepping out of the way so Gamora could step through.

"Ah-ah!" Yondu tutted, holding out his hand to stop her as she passed. "The toothpick?"

Something that was either a smile or a grimace twitched at the corner of her mouth as she drew a long needle like weapon from where it was hidden in the outer seam of her pants and slapped it down into his open palm. She turned to leave and was stopped by the clearing of his throat, his hand still held open. With a huff and a roll of her eyes, she pulled a pair of lock picks from a hidden pocket on the inside of her belt, and a flat silver square that looked like a sticker from the strap of her shirt. She handed these over as well and then held her hands up, waving them slightly as though to say that she had nothing more.

"Are we done here?" she asked, starting to look annoyed.

"Not quite. There's one more condition to be met." Here he turned to look at Horuz who was glaring at the assassin as though trying to make her head burst into flames by sheer force of will. At Yondu's prompting he produced a single silver cuff from his pocket.

"This here is a tracker," Yondu explained, shoving the items in his hand into a pocket of his coat. "I'll know every damn move you make, and you're going to keep it on s'long as you're squattin' on my ship."

"Yondu, is this really necess-"

"Yes."

Peter fell quiet again and watched as Horuz stepped forward to slip the cuff around the hand that Gamora held out, offering her a victorious smile as the smart metal shrunk down and fit its self to the shape of her wrist.

"Alright then," Yondu said with a short nod. "You kids stay out of trouble." With that he was gone, Horuz heavy on his heels. Kraglin gave Peter a tiny wave and Gamora a small tip of his head before following after as well.

Alone in the hallway now, Peter looked to Gamora who was rubbing at the wrist with the new silver band.

"Well, how does breakfast and a tour of the ship sound?"

-x-

Breakfast was a brief affair consisting of Peter and Gamora ducking into the galley long enough to snag a couple things to eat as they walked. A few of the ravagers in the hall gave them some unpleasant looks, but Gamora spared them no attention, and Peter just stuck his tongue out at a few before leading them out of the room.

"Well, that was the galley," he informed her as they walked down the main hallway that would lead them to the common rooms. "There's always some sort of food around. During the night cycle you can just raid the cabinets for meal bars or whatever else is out. Just don't take anything from the refrigerators or cabinets behind the bar. Not unless you want to spend the next few weeks checking everything for poison and firepepper."

Gamora arched a brow and gave him a look at that.

"Yeah. I learned that one the hard way," he laughed.

"Surely we won't be staying here for that long, anyways?" she asked with a quirk of a brow.

"Oh, no. I'm planning to be out of here the second my ship can fly again. Whatever that beam was, it did some serious damage to my systems. Nebula is working on fixing it right now, but I have no clue how long it'll be. We'll be swinging by later to see what I can help with."

The humor faded from her face at the mention of her sister, leaving behind a soft, blank expression in its stead.

"How _did_ you convince my sister to join you?" she inquired with a tilt of her head that made her hair cascade over her shoulder. "She has never been very good at working with others."

"That's an understatement." He snorted. Back in his rightful universe, he didn't think Nebula had ever had an ally she didn't eventually betray. A tiny bit of worry wormed its way into the back of his mind, but he brushed it away. Things were different now. Nebula and him had a common goal and even the start of a real friendship, he reminded himself. "But she wants Thanos dead as much as the next person, and she's been a lot of help so far. I know you two have a bit of a... rocky past, but you make an amazing team, and we need all the help we can get."

As he spoke they entered the common room and Gamora paused in the doorway to look around. "What is this room used for?" she asked, staring curiously at the large array of mismatched furniture, all pointed in seemingly haphazard formations.

"It's the common room. It's mostly used for drinking and making bets, but really it's for everyone to do whatever they want during their down time." Several ravagers sat on the couches around a low thick table in a dark corner, hardly giving the newcomers a cursory glance before going back to whatever game they were playing with the cards scattered between them.

"It's... lovely," Gamora managed to squeeze out in a not even remotely believable tone. Peter just burst into laughter and led her up the large staircase that led to the rooms above.

The first flight was mostly crew quarters, Peter just waved an arm at the access door and explained as much as they passed. The second flight was a mix of larger quarters and some engine rooms for the side thrusters. Next came the drafting rooms, including the one that Yondu and Peter had held their brief meeting just a couple of very long cycles ago.

"This is where we hold meetings and plans and stuff. There's lots of charts and system maps up here," he told her as they wandered through a series of rooms with bulky tables full of books and charts, some nailed up to the walls with notes written on them in a variety of colors and hand writings. Peter could easily recognize Kraglin's tiny print, and Yondu's swirling, almost elegant scrawl. The ex-slave had taken great pride in his hard-won ability to read and write, and none of the crew had the balls to make fun of his flowing scripts which stuck out like a sore thumb among the chicken scratch that covered the rest of the pages.

"It's also a nice place to get some peace and quiet. Not many of the ravagers believe in studying. Or reading in general. So it's typically pretty empty."

Gamora paused to study a stylized map that took up most of a wall in the room they were in, her fingers running absently over the cover of an old tome that had been left on a desk so long it was gathering a fine layer of dust.

"I see," she murmured. "And what is this ship called?"

"The Eclector," he said proudly. As much as he would never regret leaving the ravagers to make his own place in the galaxies, the Eclector would always hold a special place in his heart. He had spent more time in these rustic halls than he had on Earth and, later, the Milano. But it was gone now. Just like Earth, and the first Milano, he had lost a third home when it had blown up, and with it another extension of his family. He had the new Milano and the Guardians now, if only he could get back to them.

Gamora hummed again and they moved on to explore a few more rooms before reaching a stairwell that would lead them to the navigation deck above. 'Deck' was a loose term here. It was more like a tangled mess of catwalks and thin wire stairways that lead between different consoles that controlled a myriad of functions within the ship. The whole thing was several stories high, and Peter was panting slightly as he jogged his way up the route he had memorized by heart.

Where the stairwell they were on met with the ceiling, there was a small, square access hatch, and he gave Gamora a reassuring smile as he unscrewed it. She looked a bit concerned about the hidden rustic hatch that appeared to be long forgotten by the rest of the crew, judging by the flakes of rust that rained down and dusted Peter's hair and shoulders.

"I don't think the rest of the crew appreciates the finer things," he confided in her as he popped the hatch open with one final yank. "Not my fault they have no childish sense of wonder."

He crawled up the ladder with practiced ease and turned to help Gamora up afterwards.

"If a sense of childlike wonder is required to appreciate this, then..."

Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the thick glass panel that made up an entire wall and curved overhead to form the roof of the room they were in. Turning away from Peter, she made her way slowly to the massive window, raising up one hand and placing the tips of her fingers against the glass.

"I think it used to be a maintenance hub of some sort," Peter explained, walking up behind her and watching her reflection in the stars. "There's an old door leading to the outside that's been welded shut in the far corner. I found this place when I was a kid. I used to hide up here and listen to my Walkman when I couldn't sleep."

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

Watching her face, framed with starlight, reminded him of their first time on Knowhere together. The first time she opened up and told him about her past, and when he had shared his...

Oh crap!

A hand reached for his hip, even though he knew nothing was there.

"Hey uh, I hate to cut this short, but I need to get back to my ship and check something." When that beam had struck his ship he had assumed that it would only affect the ship and its systems, but if the orbs, which had been safely stored in the loading bay, had been affected, then what about his Walkman? He'd only just had it back for a matter of days. It couldn't have been destroyed again already.

-x-

They took the trip back down to the hangar at a jog. As soon as Peter's boots came down on the hangar floor he burst into a run and bolted straight for the Milano, trusting that Gamora would follow. He shot up the ramp in two bounds, nearly knocking into Drax who was carrying a large box of something out of the ship.

His Walkman was right in his nightstand where he had left it before the raid. With nervous hands he unwound the headphone cords, not bothering to put them on as he flicked the on switch. A shuddering breath left him as the first notes of "Hooked on a Feeling" drifted through the air, and the tape spun in its cradle. He didn't know what he would have done if it had been broken.

"What are you doing?" Peter clicked off his player and turned to face Nebula, who was standing in the doorway behind him, arms crossed and leaning on the door frame. She must have been working on the ship again. Her red suit had several burn marks, especially around the cut-off sleeve for her left arm, and a small rip over her collarbone on the other side. Bits of ash and dirt left smudges up her arms and across her face.

"Just, um, checking to see if my Walkman still works." He was still panting slightly from the mad dash. "After the orbs, I wasn't sure if it would be okay."

"And you waited this long to check?"

"It kind of slipped my mind." He ducked his head slightly and turned his gaze back to the player in his hand, fiddling with it and letting the familiar presence calm him.

"That beam is designed to overload and shut down engines and weapon systems." Nebula stiffened visibly as Gamora's voice rung out from behind her. "Emergency life support systems, enhancements, and internal electronics are typically unaffected. Can't capture someone if they're dead. You're ship is just a little smaller than the intended target."

Nebula's fingers were digging into her arms and she had a murderous look on her face, although she hadn't turned to look at her sister yet.

"Hello sister," Gamora greeted her. He could just make out her features in the emergency lights over Nebula's right shoulder.

"Gamora," was the icy reply. Her black eyes were boring holes into something on the wall behind him.

"Is this what all the fuss was about?" Gamora ignored her sister's cold response and stepped through the doorway to reach for the Walkman in his hands. Nebula flinched away with a snarl when their arms almost touched. "What's so important about a box?"

"It was a gift from my mom," he told her again for the first time, releasing it so she could turn it over in her hands. While she studied the object Peter glanced at Nebula, still fuming in the doorway. When he thought he caught her eye he raised his brows in a pleading expression, willing her to at least try to make amends with her sister.

"I think it's time I took a break," she hissed instead, and slipped out of view. The sound of her footsteps faded swiftly as she stomped off the ship.

"Well that went well," Peter sighed, shoulders slumping as he stared sadly through the empty doorway.

"Do not blame yourself," Gamora soothed him, delicately handing his Walkman back. "Our relationship has always been strained."

"Oh, believe me, I know." He gave a forced laugh. "But she came around and you guys made up once. I'm sure you can do it again."

"Did she help us defeat Ronan in your universe?" she asked with another soft tilt of her head.

"No," he admitted. "Actually, she was kind of his right hand, and tried to kill us all, and then stole a ship and escaped when the battle wasn't turning in her favor."

Gamora gave a huff and a small nod. "That sounds just like her. So then how did we end up 'making up'?"

When Peter raised his eyebrows at the line of questioning, she placed a warm hand in his shoulder and offered him a small reassuring smile.

"Perhaps if I know how we came to a crossroad before, we can do it again."

"I don't think that would work." Peter fiddled with the cord on his headphones, wrapping them around the Walkman and straightening out the lines so they lay flat. "I wasn't there when it happened, I was busy being used as a battery for the universe's biggest deadbeat's plan to destroy everything, but basically after taking over the Eclector and leading a coup against Yondu that killed half the crew, she took one of the M-ships and tracked us across the known universe to kill you. You guys fought. You saved her from a burning ship and she almost killed you, and then I guess you talked it out."

"That's it? Nebula failed to kill me and we talked it out?"

"Well, and then you both helped me kill my asshole of a dad. That was kind of a bonding experience, I'm sure." Gamora gave him an incredulous look.

"I'm sure," she murmured. "Who is this father of yours? You've mentioned him twice, now."

"I don't want to talk about him," Peter sighed, tucking his Walkman carefully back into its drawer for safe keeping. When he looked back up he thought she looked almost upset by his response, but the expression quickly vanished from her face, replaced by a detached sort of sympathy she typically gave him when he spoke of things like his mother. He didn't blame her for being suspicious. He was asking for a lot of trust. Hiding things was really not in his best interest, but the wounds were still pretty raw and he just wasn't ready to talk about it yet.

"I should check on the rest of the ship," he said, more to himself than the assassin, shaking off the dark mood as best he could. Gamora fell in step behind him as he ducked back into the common area.

"Welcome to the Milano. I know it doesn't look like much right now, but this baby has saved my life countless times. She's as faithful as she is sleek and deadly." He shot her an unashamed wink, which she responded to with an unamused pursing of her lips.

Towards the back of the space, the hatch that lead to the engine room and storage bay was sitting open, a soft blue light filtering up from within. Curious, he wandered over and peered inside. He recognized the lights hanging from the ceiling as the kind that the ravagers often used when working on the darker portions of the Eclector and offline M-ships. Their blue light was much brighter than the green emergency sticks that were still lining the roof of the common room.

One corner of the engine room was a mess of stripped wiring and engine parts, some of which had scorch marks and melted bits, obviously fried beyond use, all thrown haphazardly into a pile that resembled an Orlani nest he had once found on an abandoned vessel he was scavenging. In another corner was a meticulously arranged display of what must have been replacement parts that hadn't been attached yet, and a set of soldering irons. The engines themselves were ripped open and gutted, looking more like the aftermath of a bad crash than the repairs in progress he knew they were.

"Ugh," he grunted, standing back up and brushing imaginary dirt off of his pant legs. "It looks like a bomb went off down there."

The flight deck didn't prove to be in much better shape. The wiring had been pulled out from everything from the console to the chairs, and strewn about the floor. It was like Groot's bedroom when he went through his angsty teenager phase. He hadn't cared for the trip hazards then, and he didn't care for them now, but at least progress was being made in his absence.

As he surveyed the wreckage of his control room, Drax climbed up the ladder behind him, hardly sparing him or Gamora a glance as he set down an empty crate and began filling it with the loose wiring.

"So how're the repairs going?" he asked.

"We are removing all of the irreparable parts and replacing them with spares from the Ravager's collection. Your friend Kraglin has been most helpful in assisting us," Drax rumbled out as he continued to scoop bits and pieces into his box.

"That's great news. Any clue how long until she's flying again?"

"I do not know. You will have to ask Nebula."

"I would love to," Peter sighed, spreading his arms wide in a show of exasperation. "If she would stick around long enough for me to get more than two sentences out."

"You should only need one," Drax grunted, lifting up the now very full box and turning back to the ladder. "She is very efficient."

As he passed, he thought he saw Drax fix Gamora with a dirty look.

"He seemed pleasant," Gamora told him after Drax had vanished, her arms crossed as she stared down the ladder after him.

"That's Drax, The Destroyer. He takes some getting used to, but he's a good guy," Peter told her. "He's just very... honest. Like, brutally honest. With the emphasis being on brutal. But he'll warm up to you, don't worry. He and Nebula didn't get along at first either and now just look at them. He just gave her a compliment! Those are hard to get from him. Good ones, anyways."

Gamora didn't look at all convinced.

"Don't worry about it. I need to run a couple quick errands and then we can finish the tour and come back here to help out with repairs. Before you know it we'll all be a big dysfunctional family crammed into our tiny floating home again. Getting way too close and personal."

"That sounds terrible!"

Peter just laughed as he made his way back to his room to grab his red duster so he could take it to the ship's tailor. A rattling when he picked it up reminded him of the items he had pocketed back in the research facility. He still wasn't sure what he had stolen exactly. He pulled the small metal box out and rolled it around in his hand. The dark red bands that decorated the sides looked almost black under the dim lighting, and as much as he turned it, he couldn't find any seams or clues at to what the box's purpose was. Deciding to worry about that another day, he set it aside on his nightstand and pulled out the computer chip and pebbles as well, setting them next to the box with a small clatter.

-x-

The trip to the tailor was quick and uneventful. It mostly consisted of Peter regaling Gamora with all manner of stories from his childhood on the ship, and trying his best to get a laugh out of her. He never did, but she tolerated his ramblings with a good natured smirk which he counted as a victory from the stoic woman.

After that, they took the long way back and swung in to check on Groot who was looking like his old self again.

"Hey bud, you look great!" Peter called, finding Groot sitting under the lamps, his faced turned upwards and a contented smile on his glowing face. His missing limb had been recovered and his body had shed that unhealthy, dried out look. He even had small spots of green where the moss was beginning to regrow and a little leaf was unfurling on his shoulder.

"I am Groot!" he responded with a smile.

"That's so good to hear. Gamora and I are going to head back to the ship to help with repairs if you want to get out of this closet for a bit?"

Groot happily climbed to his feet, branches creaking and groaning as he stretched and shook them out under the lights.

"You can understand him?" Gamora asked.

"Yeah. We're buds, me an' Groot." Peter switched off the lights and closed the door behind them before leading his procession back towards the hangar. He really hoped Nebula had cooled down and returned by now, and they could all have a real conversation.

****End** **

 

 

.

**Chapter 11 Preview:** "... _Hey, hey, hey! There's no reason to drag the Milano into this, she didn't do anything to you." Peter gave the floor a consoling pat as he spoke. "Don't listen to her, girl. She's just jealous."_

_"I am hardly jealous of your filthy, abused... ship." She grumbled through clenched teeth, sending a pointed look around the room, as though counting the stains on the old walls._

_"Look." He sighed. "I'm sure you didn't come down here to have a discussion about the cleanliness of my ship, so why don't you get to your point_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, thus continues the corrosion of Peter and Nebula's tenuous friendship. Lol, they're all emotionally stunted children who need a nap. Originally, I was going to have Nebula explain in more detail how the beam works, and why the ship's systems were fried but her cybernetics and Peter's translator and helmet still worked, but this way flowed better. Maybe I'll add a more detailed description later. If you're still wondering about the orbs, the infinity stone was already slowly eating through the first one, and during the flare of energy it gave out an answering pulse that fried the rest between the rock's energy and that of the overloading engines. In the second chapter, Peter mentions that the orbs on his ship weren't going to hold this power for long, so they were doomed anyways. We'll have to see how long this new one lasts.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~OMaM


	11. Midnight Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nebula and Gamora finally get a chance to talk things out, but it doesn't quite go the way that Peter would have hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited right now! I finished writing this on Monday morning and was bouncing around my house for a while. This holds a couple of the key scenes I've had planned since I started the project, and I am so excited to finally get to share it and hope you enjoy! Title from Midnight Decisions by Sia. I'd recommend listening to it at the end if you've been listening to the title songs.
> 
> More notes at the bottom and on my tumblr: Therearemonstersinthedark
> 
> I do not Own GotG or the characters.

****Chapter 11: Midnight Decisions** **

Upon their return to the hangar, Peter was surprised to find a dozen or so ravagers gathered loosely around the Milano. Some were carrying crates, like the one Drax had been using earlier, up and down the ramp, and others were talking around a pile of supplies and parts. Kraglin was standing at the center of it all with a screen held up in front of him.

"Hey. What's going on?" Peter asked as his group drew close.

"Oh hey Pete," Kraglin greeted without looking up from the holo-screen, tapping something and flicking it away. "The boys just got done with the repairs to the main fleet and some a'them agreed to help with the Milano's repairs fer a bit. It's just for a few hours, though. We're enterin' orbit on Yudi-7 soon and Yondu's arrangin' the trade for the goods we stole and a few other bits we had lying around right now."

A few of the ravagers paused in their work to give Peter a friendly wave or a nod, but most of them either ignored him or just gave his companions a dirty look. They had never really taken well to strangers on their ship- as Peter knew first hand.

Surprisingly, Drax seemed to have been already assimilated into the fold. He could hear the maniac's booming laughter from inside before he and another ravager came into view. Drax had a very heavy-looking piece of machinery slung over one shoulder while the Ravager, Geff, was visibly struggling with a matching piece that was held in both arms. His face was red and puffed out as he determinedly marched it down the ramp. The cylinder slipped through his sweaty palms a bit more with each jostling step. Barely half-way down, he dropped it with a bitter swear. Before it could land against the ramp, Gamora had darted forward and caught it in both hands.

"Please," she said, settling it in her hands and standing up straight, "allow me to help."

Geff looked conflicted for a moment before mumbling out a garbled thanks and shuffling back onto the ship. Unperturbed by the brush off, Gamora just turned to look up at Drax who hadn't moved since Geff had dropped the cylinder.

"Where were you taking this?" she asked. Drax narrowed his eyes and stared down at her for a long, tense moment, during which Peter felt his own palms start to get a little clammy.

"We are taking the inoperable parts to the scrap bin. Follow me." A relieved grin split Peter's face as he watched the duo leave together.

"I am Groot?" the colossus rumbled out from behind him.

"Yeah, I guess we should jump in, too," Peter said, turning back to Kraglin and his glowing screen. "So where do you need us?"

-x-

Repairs were moving along even better than Peter had hoped, and he quickly found himself whistling along to his Walkman as he worked.

Several inquiries had taught him that Nebula was off somewhere taking a nap- According to Drax, she'd been up all night cycle working on the ship without a break- but no one would reveal where, exactly, she was, just that she would be back later, and not to worry about it. He tried not to let it get under his skin that the crew would keep the assassin's secret from their own fellow ex-ravager, and focus on the positive. At this rate, they'd be flying in no time, and there was really nowhere on the Milano that she could continue to hide from him like a petulant child.

Gamora and Groot quickly fell into a rhythm with the crew and the Milano was emptied of the last of the fried wiring and burnt-out parts, and most of the larger bits which had been outside when they'd arrived, had been moved into the flight deck or Engine room and arranged in order of installation. Soon after that task was completed, the ravagers had broken for lunch, filtering away and leaving the Guardians alone on their ship.

Peter was working alone on the cooling system in the engine room and whistling along to the voices of The Jackson 5's, when the blue assassin finally made an appearance.

As seemed to have become their ritual, she came with no announcement. One moment, Peter was lining up the tubing that ran to the upper levels in an empty room, and the next he wasn't so alone.

"Hey there, stranger," Peter greeted her, a little proud that he'd hardly even flinched this time.

Silence answered him, and when he looked up from his work he found her standing stiffly at the base of the access steps. She looked as tense as she had when they'd first arrived on Yondu's ship to plan the assault on Halfworld, and Peter had the notion that if he were to yell 'boo' right now she would actually vanish and not come back for another cycle at least. It was a funny thought, and Peter struggled to hold back the humor from his face. The last thing he needed right now was a boot to the face if she thought he was mocking her.

"You ready to talk about everything?" he asked, switching off his player and sitting up from the panel he had pried open before him. Nebula curled a lip and hunched her shoulders a bit more.

"I do not need to talk about anything other than the status of the repairs on your old junker."

"Hey, hey, hey! There's no reason to drag the Milano into this. She didn't do anything to you." Peter gave the floor a consoling pat as he spoke. "Don't listen to her, girl. She's just jealous."

"I am hardly jealous of your filthy, abused... ship," Nebula grumbled through clenched teeth, sending a pointed look around the room, as though counting the stains on the old walls.

"Look," he sighed. "I'm sure you didn't come down here to have a discussion about the cleanliness of my ship, so why don't you get to your point?"

Dark eyes flickered as she struggled with something internally. He hadn't missed this; the bitter attitude and incalculable walls. They had been through so much in the week or so he'd spent here, and he had come to count her as a friend. He had thought she was starting to do the same, but here they were, no closer than they had been back on the Dark Aster.

Eventually, she forced herself to relax slightly and met him with a carefully blank expression.

"I came to discuss supplies. The... Milano, will be ready to fly within the next cycle. All that's left is to calibrate the smaller systems and run a check through the engines. You are the only one who can understand the tree. I do not know what he needs." Peter narrowed his eyes. She was obviously lying, but until she decided to come out with it on her own, there was no way Peter could pry anything from the stubborn assassin.

"Groot just needs water and light. Now that he's recovered, the standard lighting will be fine." The new Milano had been outfitted with specialized lighting for Groot during longer trips, but he didn't plan to hang around in this universe long enough for that to matter.

Nebula shifted her weight and looked around, as though this wasn't the sort of answer she was looking for.

"Is there anything else I can help with?" Peter asked, turning back to the cooling system so he wasn't staring at her while she worked through whatever internal issues she was having.

"Yes," she said, as though dragging the single word out of herself was the most painful thing she had ever done in her life. "I have some concerns about my sister. I don't think it's wise to take her with us."

Peter had been expecting this- actually, he had been expecting much worse- so he kept his eyes on what he was doing and his tone patient. "Gamora has to come with us. She is a Guardian of the Galaxy, and my friend."

"Friend," Nebula scoffed. " _Everyone_ is your friend."

"I like to think I'm a pretty likable guy," he hummed, wiggling the attached tube to make sure it wasn't loose anywhere.

"You're gullible." He could hear the frustration in her voice. "My sister will have no trouble running her blade straight through your heart while you hold your arms wide open for her."

Peter tugged at the cord a little harder than he probably should have and it popped loose.

"You're being unfair." He could hear the edge to his voice and tried to keep his emotions reined in while he worked to reattach the tube once more. "Drax said the same things about you when-"

"I am nothing like my sister!"

" _You are exactly like your sister_!" he shouted in frustration, turning to look her in the eye. "You are both stubborn, difficult, hard-headed assassins who couldn't apologize to each other to save your d'asted lives! But I know that deep down -maybe deeper than you want to go- you're both good people, who don't want to see that monster take over the entire universe, and that's why we are _not leaving her behind_."

"You should listen to him, sister." Gamora's cool voice rang down from the access hatch above moments before she dropped down to join them. The engine room was designed to allow access to the engines, and occasionally hold overflow items from storage, not to host meetings, and it was starting to feel a little cramped in the room that was still being lit up by only the blue emergency lights. "He apparently sees something in you that no one has ever seen before; Goodness."

"What are you doing here?" Nebula snarled, hunching her shoulders and looking like she was ready to spring into a fight. Gamora, in plain contrast, stood with a relaxed air, arms crossed loosely and her hip cocked.

"I came to speak with you, dear sister. To make amends. I understand that you hate me, but this Star-lord claims that we were friends once. Perhaps we could be again. I think it would be worth it to try, at least."

"Don't lie to me." Peter noticed Nebula's hand inching towards the knife strapped to her hip and quickly closed the panel he'd been working on so he could stand up. "You may have this mindless idiot fooled-"

"Hey!"

"-but I know who you really are!"

"Nebula, please." Gamora held her palms up towards her sister in a pleading gesture. "We both suffered under our father's rule. Can we not work together to spare the rest of the galaxy from our pain?"

"Do not speak to _me_ of suffering! You were always father's favorite! He hardly touched you! Always so eager to do his bidding- Is your new friend aware of what you're capable of?"

"Nebula, calm down," Peter tried. He was pretty sure neither of the sisters were even aware he was still there.

"...He knows what _you're_ capable of." Gamora's face took on a look of steel and her voice held a razor sharp edge.

Nebula seemed taken off-guard by that, but when her gaze flickered over to Peter he was just as confused as she was.

"You act as if I'm some monster, but you are no innocent either," she continued. "According to him, all of my atrocities were against my will, and without his rule I became a hero and savior, but with your freedom you did nothing but continue his brutality."

"What?" Nebula's hand had frozen where it was, hovering over her knife.

"You don't know? That in his supposed world, I left father to save thousands of lives? And you left to kill half his crew for some desperate attempt at a revenge you couldn't even complete?"

"What!? No, I-" Nebula took a step back and glanced between her sister and Peter, as though hoping he would step in and contradict her.

"This crew that has welcomed you into their fold- you killed them. And yet, here you are, running around the ship, dressed in their colors, like you're one of them. Because he _forgave_ you. Is it so hard to believe that he would forgive me, too?" Gamora stepped forward, holding out her hand again. "All I ask, dear sister, is that you follow his lead, and offer me your forgiveness as well."

Gamora pressed forward and Peter found himself desperately hoping that Nebula would take her hand. Instead, she ripped the knife from her belt and leaped at her sister with a screech.

Still unarmed as per Yondu's orders, Gamora could do nothing but throw her arms up to shield her face and grab at her sister's wrists to deflect the blade.

"STOP!" Peter screamed, reaching forward to grab at them, but a hard shove sent him sprawling backwards.

"Stay out of this!" Nebula screamed. There was a horrible crunching noise when Peter landed, and something sharp dug into his side.

"No," he gasped, pulling the cracked case of his walkman out from underneath himself. "Nonono _nono_!"

Next to him the sisters grappled on the floor, Nebula rolled over and pinned her sister underneath herself, slamming Gamora's head into the metal panels with a sharp bang and hacking at her face with an animalistic rage. Shallow slices laced up Gamora's forearms where she had fended off her sister's hap-hazard slashes, and her leather braces were torn to pieces.

"Stop!" Peter screamed again, the music player rattling in his shaking hands.

Gamora wrestled the knife away from her furious sister, knocking it across the room to bounce off the wall with a clink that could barely be heard over their grunting. Without her knife, Nebula reached for an electric baton that Peter hadn't even realized she had strapped to her back, activating it with a click and a hum of energy that made the hair on his arms prickle and stand on end, and his heart stop.

"STOP!"

Nebula had her sister trapped, and raised the baton over her head, aiming a deadly blow straight for her sister's heart. Peter grabbed the blaster from his own hip and rammed it straight into the blue assassin's side, barely remembering to fire on the stun setting in his panic.

The scream that filled his ears was distorted by the crackle of electricity that arced in his vision and buzzed up his arms. The stun setting was meant to be fired in quick bursts from a distance, and packed a punch hard enough to kill most living things if held against them like this.

The assassin broke away with another rough shove, scrambling backwards to lean against the far wall. As the spots faded and Peter's eyes readjusted to the dimmer lighting, he saw her panting and clutching at her side where a large patch of her uniform had been burned away. Her breathing was ragged, and her right arm trembled slightly as it bore her weight.

Gamora lay at his side, gasping as well and hugging her injured arms to her chest.

"What are you doing!?" Nebula's voice came out broken and haggard.

"I told you to stop!" he cried, his own voice ringing back rough and cracked as well.

"You can't let that monster-"

" _She's not the monster here_!"

Nebula's breathing slowed as she struggled to gather herself.

"I was only-"

"No!" Something in him snapped. Fracturing like the screen of his Walkman. "Enough. No more excuses, no more feeling sorry for yourself while you hide from me and pout like a spoiled rotten _ki_ _d_! All she asked you for was a chance and look what you've done! Well _I'm_ done! I'm done asking! If you don't want to work with Gamora then fine. Go! Don't come back until you can talk this out like a goddamned adult!"

"What I've done!?" Nebula had gathered herself enough to struggle into a standing position and Peter scrambled to his feet as well, moving to stand in front of Gamora who was still on the floor. "You know nothing of what they've done to me -what that Mad Titan did! He tore my arm from my body- my brain from my skull!"

"Well, I guess when he pulled your heart out, he forgot to replace it!" The words weren't even past his lips and he already regretted them. He'd taken it too far. Way too far. The kind of far where you look up and realize you might never find your way back. Suddenly all the rage drained out of him, leaving him hollow and empty in its wake.

"Nebula, I-" A fist slammed into his jaw- a metal one, and the next thing he knew he was on the ground, staring up at the blue lights through Gamora's red and brown waves as she cradled his head in her lap. They were alone in the engine room, and there was no trace of the younger assassin to be found.

-x-

Eventually, the feeling returned to his limbs and he pulled himself to his feet with the help of the wall. His mind was fuzzy, and he couldn't tell if the time that passed had been a matter of seconds or of minutes. Gamora hadn't said a word to him, and he wasn't sure what there was to say here. Holding a hand to his head, he stared down at her, still kneeling on the floor of the engine room and pressing her palm over a long cut up her left forearm that was slowly oozing blood.

"Come on." His voice was muffled by his spinning head and aching jaw. "Let's get you bandaged up."

He held his hand out to help her up, his left hand still bracing himself against the wall. Gamora accepted his hand, but mercifully stood on her own, without adding any weight that probably would have unbalanced him and sent him toppling over right now.

Peter forced his heavy limbs to carry him up the ladder. As he pulled himself into the common room, he was surprised to find Drax standing over the access hatch, arms crossed and a cold look bearing down on the injured man. His eyes barely shifted to watch Gamora with the same frozen glare as she pulled herself up as well, leaving little smears of blood on the floor where her fingers had touched.

"Drax, where did-"

"You are a fool, Peter Quill," he rumbled. His voice was slow and measured, but Peter still felt like he had been slapped across the face, ducking his head and lowering his eyes as a wave of shame washed over him.

Drax turned to fix Gamora with the same glare, and from the corner of his eye, he could see her tilt her own face away, holding her injured arms closer to her body. The maniac let out a disgusted snort and dropped his arms to his side, turning to leave them without another word. As he left, Peter noticed Groot standing behind the table, looking torn.

"I am Groot?" he asked tentatively.

"No, Groot. We're fine," Peter muttered, touching Gamora lightly on the shoulder to get her attention before pulling the medical kit down from the wall and motioning for her to follow him into his room, so he could peel the shredded remains of her bracers off and wrap her arms. There were about fifteen or so cuts, but most of them were shallow and already scabbing over by the time he dabbed the antibiotics over them. The big one wrapped from her left elbow up towards her thumb, tapering out just before it reached her wrist. It was deep enough that it might have left her a nasty scar if not for the millions of tiny nanobots swimming through her bloodstream.

"Your lip," she murmured, as he finished covering her arms with the medical wrap, reaching one hand up to brush a delicate finger over the corner of his mouth, her brows drawn together. Peter released her arm to rummage through his nightstand for the mirror he kept in there. Holding it up, he winced when he found a tiny spot of blood crusting over the corner of his mouth where he must have cut his lip on his tooth when Nebula punched him.

"It's fine," he sighed, probing at it lightly with his left hand. "I deserved it."

When he lowered the mirror, Gamora was staring at him thoughtfully, her deep eyes boring into him like she was seeing him for the first time. Maybe she just pitied him.

"Peter," she started in a hushed tone, leaning forward to place her hand over his on the bed. Peter snatched his hand back and tried not to notice the disappointment on her face. She was probably mistaking his disappointment in himself for his actions for his failure to help the sister's get along and trying to comfort him, but he wasn't in the mood for comfort. He didn't think he deserved it right now.

"I think I'm going to take a nap," he muttered, staring down at his hands in his lap.

"Okay," she whispered, standing and quietly leaving the room, offering him one last unreadable glance before shutting the door behind herself.

-x-

Peter lay on his mattress for some time, drifting in and out, but unable to get any real rest, and instead rolling his Walkman over and over in his hands. The damage wasn't nearly as bad as he had feared. In the engine room, his mind had run straight back to Ego's planet, and watching his last connection to his mother crushed in the hands of the monster who had taken her life. In reality, it was just a spiderweb of fractures across the plastic screen, and a broken hinge. The tape and the body of the player were unharmed, and Peter fiddled with the bits absentmindedly while he put together a plan to fix it.

Terran technology was rare this far out in the galaxies, and finding parts that would match up to the clunky outdated player was a pain and a half. Hours had eked by by the time Peter decided he had something more important to fix right now and dragged himself from his mattress.

"Peter?" Gamora was sitting alone at the table in the common room, her hands folded neatly in front of herself. "Where are you going?"

"Hey Gamora." Peter gave her a small wave as he passed. "I'm just going to go talk to Nebula- if I can find her."

"Are you sure that's wise?" she asked, plucking pointedly at the bandages around her arms. "My sister can be a bit... volatile... when she is upset."

"Yeah, that's why I want to talk to her now, before she does anything too crazy."

"Then I'll go with you," Gamora offered, standing from the chair.

"It's fine. You stay here. You're still injured."

"So are you," She retorted, moving around the table to join him. "You shouldn't be alone with her right now. I would feel better if I were there to protect you should anything happen."

"Nothing's going to happen," Peter insisted, shaking his head and immediately regretting it. "I think it would be best if I went alone, so please just stay here."

"But what if-"

"Please?" For a moment a look of annoyance flickered over her face, and Gamora stiffened as though prepared to argue her way into joining him. He appreciated that she cared, he really did, but bringing her with him would do about as much good as throwing gasoline on a fire.

"I'll be back before you know it, so just stay out of sight, okay?" He turned and strode down the ramp without waiting for her reply. Her footsteps followed him to the doorway, but no further.

Outside of the Milano, the lights in the hangar were dimmed slightly, a signal that the dinner meal was being served and that the systems were beginning to power down for the night cycle. He could still see everything with perfect detail, but it had a just enough of an effect to make everything feel slow and hushed, and to make the crowd of bodies on the very far end of the hangar stand out as strange.

The hangar for the M-ships was massive, and it took Peter a long while to make his way over there. As he drew near, the murmuring of voices drifted over, accented by a sudden burst of laughter. The jovial mood felt out of place after the chilly Milano and his own churning emotions, and he quickly gravitated towards Kraglin who was standing alone at the very edge of the fray, face lit up again by the glow of a screen.

"Hey Kraglin," Peter greeted, stopping to stand next to the first mate.

"Hey Pete-" Kraglin glanced up from his screen and did a double take, eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. "What happened to yer face?"

Peter reached a hand up to ghost along his jaw. It didn't feel swollen, but it was probably visibly bruised by now.

"This wouldn't have anything t'do with yer assassin requesting a new suit and liberatin' some bandages from the med bay, would it?" The screen lowered as the first mate gave Peter his full attention.

"You've seen Nebula? Where is she?" Peter perked up. He had no clue how he was supposed to track down a master assassin that didn't want to be found on this massive ship. He knew first hand how easy it was to vanish on the Eclector.

Kraglin pursed his lips into a frown, and for a moment Peter thought that he wasn't going to tell him. He had no clue how Nebula had managed to gain the ravagers' favor in his absence, but it was pretty obvious that they held some strange measure of loyalty towards her.

When Peter was about to give up and find someone else to ask, Kraglin turned and nodded his head towards a nearby scaffolding.

"Think she's still up there," he said. "She offered to join the crew down on Yudi-7 for the drop. She knows more 'bout this scrap and what it's worth than any of us do."

"Oh." Peter was surprised to hear this. "And the crew's okay with taking her with them?"

"Oh yeah. Some a'the boys gave her some trouble the first day here, but she broke some noses, sprained some joints... She fits right in. They were glad to have 'er. "

This was all news to him, but Peter supposed he'd been so preoccupied with Gamora that he had been neglecting everything else these last couple cycles.

"Okay. Thanks Kraglin. I'm going to go talk to her."

"No problem." Kraglin pulled his screen up again and buried his face back into his work. "And Pete. Be careful."

Not sure if the warning was for his benefit or Nebula's, Peter just gave him one final wave and shoved his hands into his pants pockets as he marched over to where Kraglin had indicated. The scaffolding was almost two stories high, and the wrap around his left hand did not make the climb up any easier. Peter was puffing by the time he made it to the top of the ladder and was more than relieved to find the blue assassin, sitting with her knees drawn up, near the edge where she could watch over the hangar from the shadows. She wasn't watching the going ons from below, however. Her eyes were focused instead on her bracelet, which she rolled lazily around her wrist.

Peter grunted as he pulled himself up to roll onto the scaffolding, but Nebula gave no indication of noticing his approach. His boots echoed against the metal platform as he made his way over, sitting down as close to her as he dared, which, admittedly, wasn't terribly close, and pulling his legs up to rest his elbows on his knees in a copy of her pose. He didn't miss the fact that she had changed into a new suit. It was still the classic ravager red, but this one was a jumpsuit that vaguely resembled her old uniform. He also didn't miss the way that her right arm was held stiffly away from her side where she had been burned with the blaster.

For a long while they just sat like that, the only sounds the murmuring of the crew drifting up from below and the soft clinking of the little sword charm as the chain ran through it.

"You bought this for her, didn't you?" Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, but Peter still jumped when it suddenly pierced through the silence. "The ugly thing is obviously a sword, not a dagger, but I didn't make the connection between you and my sister. I should have known. It always comes back to my sister."

"If you thought it was ugly, why did you wear it?" he asked. He was honestly curious. Nebula just continued to roll the chain around her wrist, staring at it with a softness on her face that he wouldn't have thought her capable of before all of this. It struck him then that he had no clue how old she actually was. He knew she was younger than Gamora, sure, but by how much? Weeks, months, years? She suddenly looked too young to have born the weight of all the atrocities that life had handed her.

"I had never received a gift of my own before," she finally answered, deftly popping the clasp open and holding it out towards Peter, the little sword charm sparkling as it dangled in front of his face. "It would seem, I still haven't."

If there was any part of Peter that didn't already feel like the slimiest piece of trash in the galaxy, it was gone now, and he suddenly wished desperately that he could melt into the floor and simply vanish. Carefully, he placed his hand over her fist and pushed it away.

"No. I gave it to _you_ , and I meant it. I want you to keep it."

She withdrew her hand, but Peter couldn't tell if she was agreeing to keep it, or just going to dispose of it later. She hadn't hucked it off the scaffolding yet, but he didn't let that get his hopes up.

"I know things are kind of crazy right now," he confessed, looking at his hands, "but, when you get back-"

"I'm not coming back."

"What?" Peter snapped his head back up.

"I'm going to help the ravagers sell the tech from Halfworld, and then I'm going to find another way off that planet. Another way to kill my father. If Gamora is here, then this plan is already doomed anyways."

"Is this about what I said?" Peter asked, staring at her sadly. "You have to know, I'm so sorry-"

"You were right." She cut him off with a sigh, leaning back slightly and tilting her face up to stare at the ceiling. "If I had anything resembling mercy left inside of me, I would kill you before I left."

"What?" The words were horrible, but she had said them as though she were apologizing for forgetting his birthday present.

"I don't know what my father has planned for you, but whatever it is, a quick death would be a merciful alternative," she murmured, and Peter felt just the tiniest flicker of fear as he realized that they were very much alone up here. Maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss Gamora's offer to help.

"But I can't do it." The confession was so quiet and miserable he barely heard it even from just a few feet away. "I _am_ selfish. I have always been selfish. I think that's the only thing my father ever liked about me. It's the only reason I have survived this long, and the only reason why I will continue to do so. I can't die here. I _won't_ go back to being a slave. So I'm going to cut my losses, and move on."

Black eyes finally flickered up to meet his, and he was taken aback by the depth of raw emotion he found there. "For your sake, and the sake of the galaxy, I hope you come to your senses and leave her, but it's probably already too late."

"Nebula, I-"

"The ship will be leaving soon." She stood in one swift movement, the barest hint of a grimace as her suit slid over her injured side. "I should go."

She was at the ladder in three swift strides and vanished from sight before Peter could gather himself enough to even call out a goodbye.

-x-

Peter watched from above as Nebula joined the crew milling about the M-ship just below. A few of the members called out cheery greetings at her approach, and Kraglin happily handed over the tablet he'd been holding, the two of them walking up the loading ramp together, clearly discussing something as Kraglin's hands fluttered over the screen while he spoke. One by one, the rest of the trade crew filtered onto the ship and the engines roared to life. He watched as the large bay door opened, the stars shimmering and distorted by the field that allowed ships to slip through without releasing all the oxygen and heat into the vacuum of space. As the M-ship rose from the floor, the wind it kicked up tussled his hair and made him blink against the dryness in his eyes. Slowly, it rotated to face the open door and within a matter of heartbeats, it was gone.

He stayed there watching the stars winking through the field until his legs started to feel numb and his stomach gave a low rumble, demanding his attention.

Not feeling quite ready to return to his ship, Peter wandered his way into the Eclector's kitchens. It was nearing midnight on the ship's cycle, and the galley was silent and empty, the lights dimmed low. Peter made a line for the open fridge and took out a beer, sipping it while he grabbed a handful of protein snacks and shoved them into his pockets, intending to take some back to the ship with him. The Milano had been restocked already, so he wasn't worried about Gamora going hungry while she waited for him, but he'd grown up on theses things, and kind of liked having them around as snacks. He then helped himself to a plate of cookies that the evening shift had left out.

By the time he was done rummaging around the kitchen, he had finished off the first drink and started on a second, and a warmth was spreading from his stomach that dulled some of the worst of the heavy ache in his chest. Feeling a little more human, he finally decided to head back to the Milano and put an end to this awful night.

-x-

Back in the bay, he was surprised to see the lights of the Milano were on. Jogging up the ramp, he found the inside lights working as well, but no one seemed to be around.

"Hello?" he called out, walking a lap around the table and poking his head into his room which was exactly as he left it. He was reaching towards the hatch to the engine room in case someone was hiding down there when a voice called out from above.

"Peter?"

"Gamora?" Peter let go of the hatch and turned to look for the source of the voice. He found her up in the flight deck, leaning over the controls to the Milano.

"Hey! It's working!" he exclaimed. Finally, some good news. He could really use some about now.

"Yes, it should be ready for flight any time."

"Excellent!" Peter said with a clap that was muffled by the cast. "Where are Drax and Groot?"

"I'm sure they're around somewhere," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "How did it go with my sister?" Her eyes finally rose to meet his.

"Not great," he admitted with a slump in his shoulders. "She won't be coming back."

Gamora turned back to the console, her hair falling over her shoulder to obscure her face.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I would have liked to have had her come with us."

"You and me, both." Peter sighed sadly, eyes downcast. A hand pressed gently against his shoulder. It felt warm and soft through the material of his T-shirt.

"You did everything you could." Gamora's eyes sparkled from underneath her thick lashes, and suddenly her face was only inches away from his. Her other hand raised to his back and Peter wrapped his own arms around her waist, leaning into the hug and letting himself take comfort from her familiar presence.

"I know, it's just-"

"Shhhhh." Gamora pulled back just enough to press a finger against his lips. "It's all going to be okay."

Peter just stared mesmerized into her eyes and almost didn't realized what she was doing when she leaned in to press her lips against his, and it was in that moment that he knew. He knew that he had made a terrible, awful, horrible, mistake. He knew in the way that one knows only after they have jumped, that they would like to live after all, but there is nothing to do now but watch the pavement rise to meet you.

This wasn't his Gamora. This wasn't the Gamora that betrayed Ronan and left her father to save the galaxy, the Gamora who tolerated his idiotic fawning, and maybe wanted to feel the same way, but had to heal from her own scars before she could find a way to reciprocate. This was Gamora the assassin, who had earned her title of the most feared woman in the galaxy. He hadn't been seducing her, she had been seducing him, and he had fallen for it. Hook. Line. And Sinker.

The stab of betrayal was so sharp he almost didn't feel the actual piece of metal slide into his chest. Staring dumbly into her eyes, now glittering with triumph, he raised one hand to wrap around the tiny handle sticking out from between his ribs, and pulled out a long needle-like weapon. Yondu had missed one.

The needle must have been coated with something, as the floor dipped and waved under himself, and soon Gamora's hands under his arms were the only thing keeping him upright as she half-guided, half-dragged him to the co-pilot's chair, shoving him into the seat and fastening the straps around him.

"Consider it a thank you," she whispered, leaning in to press a kiss lightly against his cheek, her hair falling over his face as the world spun and faded around him, "for making this so easy."

She pulled away and he was distantly aware of the ship's engines rumbling to life, and a shifting that may have been them lifting from the bay floor, and then the darkness swallowed him whole.

****End** **

 

 

.

**Chapter 12:** "... _Peter hauled himself to his feet and moved to sit against the back wall with Drax. There, he struggled to maneuver his bound hands in front of himself in a move that the ravagers had taught him back when he was a child helping with their smuggling outfits. The cast made things a bit more complicated, and for a bit he thought he would be trapped with one leg half-through his arms until their captors returned. With some creative contorting and cursing he eventually managed to get his hands in front of himself and slumped against Drax's arm. His head was still spinning from everything he had just learned, and he hugged his knees to his chest and pressed his forehead against them._

_"Nothing here makes sense." He whispered. "We have to get out of here_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! So this has been one of the chapters that I've been looking forward to writing since the beginning. More specifically, the scene with the bracelet, which I've had planned since I wrote it in, in chapter three, and the scene where Gamora leans in to kiss Peter and that's when he realizes he's been fooled. They didn't turn out quite as I wanted them, but I hope they still had an impact. Honestly, I have no clue if I pulled off making Gamora's betrayal a surprise or not. I've been caught between worrying I was tipping my hand and wasn't fooling anyone, and worried that everyone was going to think I just sucked at writing Gamora and I might lose some readers. I did want their relationship to feel too easy and a bit forced so you could look back at it later and be like 'aha! I knew it was off!' but I have no clue if it worked or not. Everything from her lines of questioning to her attempts to keep Nebula away from Peter and to try to weaken whatever line of trust there was between them. Also, this means that nothing she said in the last couple of chapters can be trusted. (Which is part of why 9 is titled 'No Answers.' )
> 
> Don't worry. Nebula won't be gone long. We're reaching the downslope of the first arc and the start of the second.
> 
> Thanks as always for reading!
> 
> And a special thanks to those of you who leave comments, they always make me smile. 3
> 
> -OmaM


	12. Bitter Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up as a prisoner once more, but this time he has Drax and Groot, and the assassin on the other side of the bars probably can't be persuaded to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments!
> 
> In honor of fanworks day I decided to post this chapter up a bit early. This chapter is using the title, "Bitter Water" By the Oh Hello's. I originally picked it for the way it suited Peter's feeling towards Gamora right now, and then It worked out great just as a title with the events in the chapter.
> 
> As usual, this is purely for entertainment and I do not own GotG or it's characters.
> 
> More notes at the bottom or at my tumblr; Therearemonstersinthedark

** **Chapter 12: Bitter Water** **

The waking world returned slowly, and brought with it a pounding in his skull and a dull ache in his bones. He had dreamed again, of something grasping for him as he fled in a blinding panic through colorful galaxies and stars that all blurred into bright smears as he passed. It was always so close, fingers brushing up the back of his neck as he pumped his legs until his lungs were on fire and threatening to burst. His heart was still hammering against his ribs even as the terror slipped away with his memories of the dream, and soon he could not recall what exactly he had been so frantic to escape.

As his senses returned, he became aware, first, of the very cold and very hard floor that he was laying on. His T-shirt provided no protection from the chill that seeped up into his body, and a frostseemed to have formed in his joints. Next, he became aware of the flecks of rust on the bars drifting in and out of focus in front of his face. It was hard to tell between the poor light and the way they refused to sit still long enough for him to pick out the finer details, but they seemed to be made of a dull grey metal. Some of the bars were covered in scrapes and dents as though something very powerful and probably very, very angry had tried to hack its way out.

For a while he entertained himself with thoughts of who they were and how they had escaped. Any attempts at deeper thoughts slipping away like fish through his hands.

In time, his heart slowed to a less alarming rate and between the beats he made out the sound of someone else breathing behind him. With Herculean effort he managed to roll himself onto his back, discovering in the process that his hands were once again bound behind his back, this time with some sort of thick chain that dug into his hip and connected to a heavy ring that was bolted to the floor of the cell behind him. In the half-light, he made out the hulking form of Drax. The maniac was only a body length or so away, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands dangling limply between them where they were bound by their own pair of cuffs and chain. His head was bowed and his back pressed against the back wall of the room they were in.

"Drax?" Peter croaked out. No answer came immediately, and at first he thought the man to be asleep, but then, slowly, he lifted his head to meet Peter with a cold gaze that made him have to swallow a lump in his throat.

"Do you see where your foolishness has led us?" he growled out. "Your assassin has betrayed us all and sold us out to her master, just as I feared."

Peter had no rebuttal to that and turned his eyes away. As his ability focus on single objects returned, he searched the rest of the room, or what he could see without having to move too much. Drax and himself seemed to be in a corner cell. Two of the walls and the ceiling were comprised of the same dark frigid metal that he was laying on, and the other two were made up of the dented metal bars. It took him three tries, but he managed to count out four cells on each side of an open hallway in the middle, so eight in total. The one he was in was pretty large as far as cells went, his prone form making up about a third of the length of one of the walls. At either end of the hallway was a heavy metal door, the close one looked significantly bigger and sturdier than the one on the far side.

In the cell next to them was Groot, hardly visible between the shadows and the thick bars. He was curled again into a ball, looking desolate and defeated. It appeared that in subduing him, his arms had both been hacked off, and a strange device had been affixed to his chest and shoulders. It vaguely resembled a pair of frisbees covering where his arms would typically regenerate from, but the rings of soft red light gave off a sinister air that he had never found before in the kid's toy, and it was likely that they were there to halt any attempts to regrow his limbs.

The room didn't have much else to offer beyond that. A number of what appeared to be lights were set into the ceiling, but only a few of them were on, giving out the dim lighting that they were sitting in now. There appeared to be a vent of some sort in the roof of his cell, much too small for Rocket to have fit through, even if he were here, and a dip in the floor in the back corner that was shared with Groot's cell that was probably a drain.

Judging by the solid metal walls and flooring, they were probably on a ship, but it was honestly just a wild guess at this point. He was pretty sure he wasn't on the Dark Aster, but with an entire universe of other possibilities, that didn't tell him much.

They were down there a long time before anything of interest happened. Peter was working through counting the bars in his cell for the fourth time when the lights suddenly brightened with an audible click. Peter groaned and rolled away from the bright lights, screwing up his stinging eyes and really wishing he could cover them with his arm.

There was the rattling of a chain sliding across the floor as Drax stirred, followed by the swish of the heavy door at the close end of the hallway sliding open.

The room had long since stopped spinning, and Peter rolled to his knees to watch as Gamora herself entered the room to stand in front of his cell. The sting of her betrayal was still sharp in his chest as she stared down at him through the bars. The bandages he had given her just a day or so before had been removed, replaced with a new set of bracers. The thin,pale line of a fading scar peeking out from underneath and wrapping up her left arm was the only evidence that the injuries had ever occurred. One hand rested on the hilt of the Godslayer, once more strapped to her hip.

"How did you...?" He didn't want to finish that sentence, afraid of the answer.

"Relax." Gamora seemed to understand his fear, a smile curling the corners of her lips. "It was easy enough to steal back and slip away. Those ravagers and their 'Eclector' can pay for their crimes against my father later. For now they are hardly a priority of mine."

He knew she was not-so-subtly threatening him with their eventual deaths, but he was actually just relieved to learn that she had not slaughtered them on her way out. The ravagers were tough and resourceful, and if anyone could keep them safe it was Yondu.

"I am here for another reason." Slender green fingers wrapped around a bar as she leaned closer. "The Infinity Stone. Where is it?"

Peter just blinked back, momentarily confused. As far as he knew, it should still be stored away on the Milano. The fact that Gamora hadn't found it meant that Nebula must have stolen it before slipping away. Any annoyance he might have felt at her sneaking behind his back was crushed under the wave of relief that Thanos did not have it back. Peter just shrugged his shoulders, seeing no reason to tell her anything.

"Hiding it from me is not a wise course of action,  _Star-lord_." She spat out his name like a curse word. "If I have to, I will rip that ravager ship and every last crew member apart, bolt by bolt and limb by limb, until I find it. That centaurian isn't the only one who can use a tracer. I can track them down in a matter of hours if I need to."

"Be at ease, Gamora," a new voice soothed from the doorway. Someone that Peter didn't recognize stepped into sight to place a pale bony hand on her shoulder. He was tall and almost wispy, with a sunken grey skin and huge watery eyes that made his face closely resemble a skull. Impossibly deep black robes draped over his form, with a gold and white panel that fell down his front and back, and wrapped around his collar. Despite the heavy resemblance to a frail old man, something in the back of Peter's mind was screaming that this man was dangerous. "No doubt the stone is wherever your sister has scurried off to. We will find it when we retrieve her, and Thanos can do with them both as he will. Lost trinkets and wayward children always find their way home."

Gamora relaxed at his touch and settled back from the bars slightly.

"Of course, Ebony Maw," she murmured.

"Please, Gamora, call me brother. With this latest triumph of yours, it will be no time at all before you take your place in the Black Order."

Gamora's eyes lit up and her back straightened at his praise, while Peter narrowed his own eyes. Black order? What the heck was a Black Order? And who was this Ebony Maw guy? Another one of Thanos' children? Whoever he was, he gave Peter the creeps. The stranger turned his attention to Peter, then. Huge watery eyes shining like a cat's and seeming to change color as they moved.

"And you must be Star-lord. We've been looking for you for such a long time, it's a pleasure to finally meet in the flesh." His voice was low and soft, like a lullaby. "Tell, me, Star-lord, how did you come upon this name of yours?"

"My-my mother." He found himself answering without thinking. "She used to call me her little Star-lord." Those huge eyes seemed to be pulling him in.

"Leave the weak-minded fool alone." Drax's harsh voice broke through the spell and pulled him back into the present.

"Ah, Drax the Destroyer." The man didn't look the least bit upset about the interruption. Those heavy eyes released him to regard Drax like an old friend, and Peter felt like he could breath a bit easier outside of their gaze. "En Dwi Gast has missed you, in your absence from his games. He will, no doubt, be relieved at the news of your return."

"He will soon be relieved of his head as well," Drax snorted back.

"Oh, Drax," Ebony maw chuckled. "You are always such a pleasure. A pleasure that must be cut short today, I am afraid."

"Our father will be hailing us momentarily, and I thought it might be prudent to include you in this debriefing." His bony hand slipped from Gamora's shoulder to fold neatly with his other as he turned for the door. "Say your goodbyes and join us on the bridge. Sister."

Gamora watched him leave with an unreadable expression.

"Gamora?" Peter asked tentatively. "Why are you doing this? You were _free_."

She whipped her head around to regard him with a filthy look.

"I do not need the likes of you to free me. We are not friends, and you should stop acting like we are."

"If I mean so little, why not just kill me when you had the chance?" he demanded, she hadn't killed any of them, she had to be playing some sort of long con here, right? He knew her. Senseless violence, these cold threats, it was all so wrong. "I know you care. About your friends, the galaxy. He murdered your parents, Gamora, how can you just stand there?"

"I don't know where you are getting this information, Star-lord. Whether you made it all up in your mad dreams or my sister has played a cruel trick on you, but Thanos did not murder my parents. He _saved them._ And as soon as I deliver you and take my rightful place in the Black Order I can ensure their safety under his rule forever."

Peter blinked owlishly up at her. Nothing she was saying was making any sense.

"As for why you are still breathing, we are all under very strict orders to apprehend you alive," she informed him coldly. There was a cruel glint in her eyes as she leaned in to continue. "I lied about that rodent on Halfworld. I know experiment 89P13 very well - my father's favorite little attack dog- and he is no doubt paying very dearly for that stunt he pulled, firing a lethal weapon at you."

"What?" he gasped, dumbstruck, but she was already turning away towards the exit. "Wait! Gamora! You said he'd be fine!" Peter screamed, leaping after her only to hit the end of the chain and fall back down, smacking his knees painfully against the unforgiving floor. "Come back! Gamora!"

But she didn't look back, the swish of her hair was the last thing he could make out as the door slid shut behind her and the lights dimmed.

"Do you never learn?" Drax grunted in disgust.

"I guess I don't," he sighed, feeling suddenly very tired again. "Who was that man?"

"He is known as Ebony Maw. A member of Thanos's Black Order. A cowardly, sniveling man who specializes in warping the minds of..." He trailed off as he regarded Peter through narrowed eyes.

"...of weak minded fools, yeah, I get it." Peter hauled himself to his feet and moved to sit against the back wall with Drax. There, he struggled to maneuver his bound hands in front of himself in a move that the ravagers had taught him back when he was a child helping with their smuggling outfits. The cast made things a bit more complicated and for a bit he thought he would be trapped with one leg half-through his arms until their captors returned. With some creative contorting and cursing he eventually managed to get his hands in front of himself and slumped against Drax's arm. His head was still spinning from everything he had just learned, so he hugged his knees to his chest and pressed his forehead against them.

"Nothing here makes sense," he whispered. "We have to get out of here."

"Look around, Peter Quill," Drax snorted so hard that Peter could feel his hot breath against his arms, "there is no getting out. You will be delivered to Thanos for whatever he has planned for you, I will be returned to Sakaar where I will await my inevitable honorless death, and the tree will return to... whatever the tree had been doing on that Halfplanet."

"I am Groot," the colossus groaned from the other cell.

"Don't worry Groot. I'm not letting them take you back there."

From next to him, Drax just huffed again and rolled his eyes, obviously unconvinced by Peter's poorly faked confidence. He knew that Drax was right. They were trapped, bound and chained, in a cell guarded by Thanos's favorite children. No one would be looking for them; the Milano was scheduled to leave as soon as she could fly, so Yondu wouldn't be the least bit surprised to find them all gone before morning, and the only person who could possibly know where they were or how to help was long gone. They were doomed in all ways that Peter could figure, and it was all his own D'asted fault.

-x-

He woke later, still leaning against Drax's side. The warmth radiating from the ex-gladiator's body was staving off the worst of the chill from the dark cell.

"How long was I out?" Peter asked, pulling away enough to stretch his arms forward and let out a huge yawn.

"I do not know. I dozed off myself for a bit. A few hours at least. Nothing of note has happened."

Rubbing at his eyes, Peter wondered what had been on that needle that Gamora had stabbed him with. He felt like he'd slept an entire day away, but at least this time he woke up with a much clearer head.

Speaking of sleeping the day away, his throat was feeling parched and sandy.

"I don't suppose room service has come by to take our orders yet?"

"Who is room service? And why would anyone be taking orders from the prisoners?"

Peter just smiled to himself, enjoying the fact that Drax was talking to him again.

"Well, either way. Someone's got to come through eventually, right?"

'Eventually' turned out to be several hours later by the best of Peter's estimation. His last drink had been a couple of beers back on the Eclector, and that fact wasn't doing him any favors now. His throat was getting scratchy and he was developing a nasty headache from dehydration when the lights once again hummed to life and the door slid open.

Everything suddenly came to life as a small group of guards pooled in, dressed head to toe in a black canvas and leather armor that rustled as they marched in. They each had masks that obscured their features, and not an inch of skin was showing that could give Peter any clue as to what they were.

"Hey! Peter called out. Anyone know what time it is?"

The one in the lead stopped in front of Peter and Drax's cell and swiped a card through the panel on their door, sliding the heavy door to the side so two more who were carrying trays could enter and place them on the floor. While they did this, a second pair, carrying a large shallow bucket of water between them did the same to Groot's, cell, placing the bucket down by his feet. As one, they stepped back, sliding the doors shut with a coordinated bang and swept out of the room. As quickly as they had appeared they were gone, and with them the bright lights.

"Friendly bunch," he muttered as he scooted forward to grab the tray that had been placed in front of himself. As far as prison food went, this was actually pretty nice. A sandwich that looked like something he could have ordered from one of the more upscale restaurants on Xandar, and a couple of ripe fruits. On the corner of the tray was a smooth plastic mug filled with water that was sweet and cool as he chugged it down.

"You shouldn't drink that."

Peter was mid swallow when Drax spoke and startled him into breathing some of it in. The mug slapped to the ground as he bent over to cough and hack the liquid from his lungs. His eyes were starting to water and his stomach was threatening to revolt by the time he coughed up enough to take a deep breath again.

"Why?" he rasped out between smaller coughs, hands pressed against his burning chest.

"It is likely drugged," Drax informed him. "To make you docile, and easy to manipulate. Not that you need much help with that."

Drax was still slouched against the back wall, not making a move to take his own tray.

"Yeah, well-" he paused to hack up another couple of drops caught in his throat. "I kind of need water to live-" Another cough. "And air. Water and air. How long are we going to be here?" Poisoned or not, he'd have to drink something eventually.

Drax just heaved his shoulders into a shrug. "I do not know. It could be days. It could be weeks." Peter's heart sank at the thought of being stuck here for weeks.

"Is the food drugged, too?" he asked, casting a mournful glance at the very tempting plate of food.

"More than likely," came the expected, but no less heartbreaking answer.

"Alright." Peter flopped back, wishing he had his duster, or at least his shorter jacket to use as a pillow, and stared at the blank ceiling. "So we're chained to the floor, behind some very thick bars with a keycard access, behind another solid door, guarded by at least two of Thanos's favorite children, probably drifting through the heart of enemy territory, on our way to meet Thanos himself in what could be days or weeks from now, and to top it off, nobody is looking for us, and all of our food and water is poisoned. Excellent."

It was a tribute to just how done with this Drax was that there was no answering remark about how this was all, in fact, the opposite of excellent.

-x-

With nothing but the arrival of meals to judge the passing of time by, Peter estimated that they had been there for almost three cycles by the time anyone beside the guards came down to visit them. Each cycle, as far as Peter was estimating them, consisted of three meals, the first usually something sweet that reminded him of breakfasts back on earth. They had something to the effect of fifteen minutes before the guards would return to gather their trays and, after the second meal, to escort them individually to the small door at the end of the hall that turned out to be a sparse bathroom.

On the first cycle, Peter was elated to discover that Gamora had failed to pat him down before dumping him in here, and he still had his handful of protein bars stuffed into a back pocket. It wasn't much, especially being rationed between both himself and Drax, but it was better than nothing while they were stuck down here.

On the second cycle, a bit after the breakfast meal had been collected, the lights flickered on and a series of beeping alerts filled the room just moments before water started spraying down from what Peter had thought was a vent in the ceiling. The drops were thick and within moments Peter and Drax were drenched.

"Drink." A slap on the shoulder forced him to look up from where he had curled in on himself to shield his body from the worst of the downpour. Drax was standing next to him with his head tilted upwards and his mouth held open. "This water is clean."

Forcing himself to uncurl, Peter shut his eyes against the water and managed to catch a couple mouthfuls of the bitter water before it suddenly shut off again.

It was only later, when he lay shivering in the dark and pressed once more against Drax's side, playing with his now very damp cast, that he would think to ask how Drax seemed to know so much about this place.

"I believe this is the same ship that carried me to Sakaar the first time," Drax grunted, pointing towards one of the worst of the dented bars. "I did that when one of the other cellmates reacted poorly to the poison and fell ill. The guards refused to give aid and their death was slow, and agonizing. He was hardly more than a child."

Peter didn't ask any more questions for a while.

On the third cycle the lights came on again only a few minutes after the breakfast meal had been served and the guards returned with Ebony Maw in the lead. He tutted as he stared down at their untouched plates.

Each meal, Peter and Drax had dumped some of the poisoned water down the drain to make it appear that they had, at least, been drinking a bit. As far as Peter could tell, there were no cameras down here, but it would be a pain if they got the notion that they were using the showers to avoid drinking the drugged water and shut them off. Not that Peter would miss the freezing cold water that rained down and soaked his clothes. There was really no point in even pretending to have eaten the food, though.

The strange old man made no comment, however, just waving a hand impatiently at a guard who quickly stepped forward to unlock the cell door. Two more followed him in, grabbing Peter by the arms and hauling him to his feet.

"What are you doing?" Drax demanded, leaping to his own feet and advancing on the guards, but the guards were holding Peter just out of his reach.

"Do not concern yourself so, Drax," Ebony Maw sighed, eyes not leaving Peter, who was struggling to avoid his haunting gaze, and instead focus on how the guards unhooked the chain from his cuffs. "He will be returned shortly."

The guards dragged him out of the cell and towards the doorway, and Drax let out an angry scream, straining against his own chain.

"Whole, and alive. You have my word," Ebony promised in a voice that sent a chill down Peter's spine. He sent a desperate look over his shoulder. Drax looked outright furious, and Groot had moved for the first time since Peter had awoken down here to stand at the edge of his own cell, but neither of them could do anything as the door slid shut between them.

-x-

Ebony Maw led the way down a series of winding corridors in no particular hurry. The further they got from the holding cells, the nicer things seemed to become. Around the fourth corner the metal floor turned into carpet and little gold sconces let out a soft warm glow. The plush footing felt out of place for a ship, and muffled the guard's boots as they marched behind him.

Two corners later revealed a long hallway which must have run the edge of the ship, one wall was comprised of a massive window which ran beyond what he could see in either direction. The view outside was so spectacular that Peter actually stopped in his tracks to gape openly at the swirling galaxies that drifted by in a rainbow that sparkled with winking stars. Huge asteroids, dwarfed by the distance between them, drifted across the canvas, covered in shimmering crystals of ice that left him dazzled.

A hard shove to his back forced him to keep moving, but his eyes remained trained on the breathtaking view for the whole length of their march down the hallway, and when they turned away to follow a path that led them deeper into the ship, he felt saddened at its loss.

"The asteroid fields of the Belle Ame Galaxies are a sight to behold, aren't they?" Ebony Maw's voice rang out from the head of the procession.

"Belle Ame?" Peter asked before he could remind himself not to be taken in by this strange man's hypnotizing words.

"Yes, it means 'beautiful soul.' A lovely name, but quite ironic, in that not a single soul resides within them. Wouldn't you agree?"

Peter kept his eyes trained on his boots and gave a non-commital grunt in his best Drax impression. A breathy laugh floated back to him.

"Oh, come now, Star-lord. You needn't look so scared. I mean you no harm. Drax can be a bit, over-dramatic. I can hardly blame him; after all, he had just lost his home and his people. It is no surprise he holds such bitter memories of his time here."

"He was a prisoner. Is a prisoner." Despite himself, Peter was being drawn into a conversation.

"He was a prisoner long before he came to Oasis. We merely cared for him for a while."

"Some care,” Peter huffed. Days of dehydration and hunger giving him a short temper. "Our food and water are poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Ebony Maw hadn't turned back to look at Peter as they marched onward, but Peter could practically hear the smile on his face. "Drax's word, I'm sure. It is merely a light sedative to ease our guest's journey. They are often panicked and distressed when they come to us, which can lead to them causing all manner of harm to themselves or to our crew. While I myself might be inclined to forgive the occasional bruise or battery on my guards as an... occupational hazard, my lord has made it very clear that such uprisings are not to be encouraged, and must be dealt with in a very specific manner. A little bit of a foggy mind is hardly an unreasonable price to pay to avoid such cruelties."

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, failing to find the words he needed. He knew he didn't agree with Ebony's logic, but couldn't form an answer that sounded half as reasonable.

"You let that prisoner die. The one who had a reaction to your sedatives," he finally said, raising his head triumphantly as he clung to his irrefutable evidence of his evil.

"We hardly just 'let' him die," Ebony's voice softened and his shoulders drooped down just the barest hint as though he truly were regretful. "That poor child was in such pain, but when my guards tried to treat him, they were attacked and driven away. They could do nothing but watch as his fellow prisoners refused to allow him aid and he eventually succumbed to his sickness. As I said, our guests are often distressed and not inclined to be at their most reasonable in a place like this."

It was obvious that Peter's foggy brain wasn't going to be winning any arguments here, so with Drax's stern warning to avoid conversation with the man heavy on his mind, he held his mouth shut and admitted defeat for now.

The hallway ended abruptly with an elevator that was big enough to allow them all to stand comfortably, with room to spare. The ceiling and walls were covered in well-polished mirrors, giving it an even roomier effect and allowing Peter to get a good look at himself on the way up. Thanks to the freezing cold shower, he was actually relatively clean, but a dark shadow ghosted across his jaw where he had been struck by Nebula back on the Milano. It had obviously once been a pretty impressive bruise, but now the blood was beginning to fade and pool along his jawline. At a distance, one might not even notice it under the three-day's worth of not shaving.

Dark circles were forming under his eyes, and faint shadows were visible under his cheekbones. Both sat stark against his pale complexion under the cheery white lighting.

They rode the elevator up in silence. A tiny ding announced their arrival at wherever they were going and the doors slid open to reveal a long elegant hallway. The walls were a polished ivory and the carpet a deep rich crimson with traces of gold swirling through it like smoke.

A set of gold doors stood open down the hallway to the right and Ebony Maw lead them straight through, the guards pulling the doors shut behind them and removing the shackles from Peter's wrist before moving to stand in the corners. As Peter flexed his hands and looked around the first thing he noticed was the table in the center of the room, set with two plates of what resembled pancakes, a big bowl of fresh fruits in the center and pitchers of juice and water set to either side.

"Please," Ebony Maw moved to the far side, gesturing with one long-fingered hand to the chair on Peter's side as he slid his own out, "take a seat."

Still thoroughly confused, Peter did as he was told. The plush seat was a welcome break from days of sitting on freezing metal, and the smell that wafted up from the freshly cooked food was making his mouth water and his stomach squirm.

Across the table, Ebony Maw took his silverware up in his delicate hands and cut a small slice of his own not-a-pancake, popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly with a smile. Peter was pretty sure his stomach was ready to crawl up his own throat and abandon him.

"Please, eat. The food here is absolutely exquisite. Our cooks really outdo themselves."

"No thanks," Peter forced out, the words bitter on his parched tongue. Ebony just responded with an easy laugh.

"I assure you. It is not, 'poisoned' as Drax would say. Here, you may have mine if you wish." He picked up his own plate to offer it over.

"No, that's fine."

Thanos's son relented with a small shrug as though it didn't matter to him either way, taking another bite before pouring himself a glass of the ruddy juice.

"At least have some Ohchrie Juice. It's hard to think straight when one is dehydrated, and the water from the showers is hardly a proper source." Another chuckle escaped his lips when he saw Peter's shocked expression. "Yes, I know all about Drax's little trick, but as long as you are not causing any upset, I do not see what harm it can cause."

Sulking, and feeling a bit like a kid who had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar, Peter went ahead and poured himself a glass from the same pitcher Ebony Maw had used. Even if it was drugged, it probably didn't matter at this point. After the juice didn't cause him to grow dizzy or fall over foaming at the mouth, he picked up his own utensils and took a small bite of his food. He could practically hear a chorus of angels as the sweet taste washed over his tongue. It might just be the starvation talking, but this was the best pancake-like food he had ever tasted.

Peter was struggling to pace himself, and for a while his host seemed content to just eat in silence. About half-way through their meal, when Peter's head was feeling a bit clearer, he looked up to notice that the other man had stopped eating and set his tools aside to fold his hands neatly on the table in front of himself and was watching Peter with quiet interest.

Feeling suddenly self-conscience, Peter swallowed his last bite and set his own utensils aside to sit back and meet his gaze.

"Well," Ebony started, seeming to perk up now that he had Peter's attention. "Now that we can both think clearly, why don't we move on to why I have invited you up here?"

Ah. There was the other shoe. Peter just hoped that as it came down, he wouldn't be crushed underneath it.

"Alright," Peter sighed, sitting up straighter. "Let's get the interrogation over with."

"Interrogation? Oh, no, nothing like that! I am sure that Thanos will have many questions for you upon our arrival, but this meeting is more... off-the-record, as it were."

"Off-the-record?" Peter questioned.

"Yes. You see, Thanos is our most beloved father, and a wonderful leader, but he can get so caught up in the bigger picture, that some of the finer details and... opportunities, can slip through the cracks. That is where the Black Order comes in. That's where I come in. From the sounds of it, at the end of this journey, you will have outlived your use, and Thanos is not one for keeping unnecessary clutter."

Peter swallowed thickly as he wondered again how long this 'journey' would be.

"It seems like such a waste to me. You strike me as a creature of reason, and I thought perhaps we could discuss the possibility of a future under his rule. A very long one."

"You want me to join the Black Order?"

Ebony Maw seemed to lose his composure for a moment to another burst of laughter, the loudest one yet, but he recovered a moment later, wiping at the corner of his eyes with a flutter of his hands.

"Oh no. Ahem. I am afraid nothing quite so grand- at least not right away. Certainly, if you worked hard and showed considerable promise, you could eventually be considered for a place among his most elite, though." He was still chuckling as he spoke. "You already have the ambition, it seems."

"Thanks, but, um, I don't really see myself working for a Warlord," Peter replied, surprised at the lack of sarcasm he heard in his own voice.

"Warlord? Well that's quite a small-minded way of putting it. Look around you. The universe is falling into chaos. So many factions, so many governments, always in conflict against each other. Since the first dawn, the universe has never known anything but war, and as our technology to traverse them expands, we are only met with more brutality, more fear and ruthlessness, as every separate entity struggles to claim their own. Our father seeks to change that, to unite the galaxies under his rule. In peace.

"Imagine that. No more wars. No more genocides, or bloody mutinies. Just the galaxies, united under one ruler, all striving towards one glorious future."

"Is that really what you think he wants? Peace?" Peter snorted, keeping his eyes trained on his plate and away from the pull of those eyes and the musical lilt in his voice.

"It is. But such wondrous things as peace must always be obtained at a high price."

"Was Xandar part of that price?"

"Unfortunately, yes. The people of Xandar and the Nova Corps were so accustomed to their wild ways and ruling over their own corner of the galaxies, they would never bend to a higher power. We did make them an offer; to spare their citizens in exchange for their complete loyalty towards our cause, but Nova Prime would hear none of it. She could not fathom giving up her throne and clung to it stubbornly at the tragic cost of her people."

"You murdered them," Peter ground out, so quiet he wasn't sure he'd be heard.

"Yes. And I mourned for every soul that was lost to that woman's selfishness, but the cost of one planet pales in comparison to the lives that will be saved."

Peter's lips pulled into a frown and he moved to fiddle again with the worn edges of his cast. Out here in the brighter lighting he could see how badly the marker had blurred from the showers. The Milano's laser beams wavered and the explosions were melting into ugly dark blobs. Even Nebula's little smiling face in the corner had developed streaks which made it appear to be weeping even as it smiled on.

"I can see that you will need some time to consider what I have told you." Ebony Maw's chair slid across the carpet as he stood from the table. "I understand that it is a lot to take in, so please, take your time. I only ask that you give us a fair chance, and consider the good that you could do for the universe, the souls that you could save. Souls that could be lost if you are not there to save them."

The guards had stepped forward and grabbed him by the arms once more, pulling him to his feet. As a third one stepped in to fit his cuffs back on Ebony waved him away.

"Oh, really. I'd say those are hardly necessary any more. And as a show of good faith, I will see to it that your food and water remain... untainted for the remainder of this trip. Now that we have been more properly introduced, I do not believe you to be a danger to my crew, and I am sure neither Thanos nor En Dwi Gast will be too pleased if their guests show up half-starved and delirious from dehydration."

"Thanks." The word slipped out before Peter even realized it, and as the guards guided him from the room and back the way he'd come he found himself worrying over the fact that he had just sincerely thanked one of Thanos's children for not continuing to poison him and his friends. Despite his withered look and soft voice, the old man was definitely not someone to take lightly.

****End** **

 

 

 **Chapter 12 Preview:** "... _It started with a missed meal. At first, Peter had thought that time was just dragging on extra slowly that night, but hours rolled by, and his stomach made it clear that their regular dinner time had been passed. Then when breakfast arrived, it came with only half of the usual guards. The one that stayed outside of the cells had a new heavy looking rifle strapped across his back. Shortly after breakfast came the headache, a slow creeping sort of pain that started in the base of his skull and pooled between his eyes, making his vision blur_..."

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I decided to go ahead and include the Black Order in this story. It gave me some more interesting ways to expand the plot and fill a few holes that were bugging me, along with opening the door to a few other characters I was happy to include. To be honest, I don't actually know much of anything about them beyond what Wikipedia had to say, and it looks like their movie versions are going to diverge from that a bit. Unfortunately, I can't wait until May for Infinity Wars to come out, so I'm just going to do my best and pray I don't get them too bad.
> 
> I will say that the motives that Ebony Maw are quoting here are not Thanos's real purpose. A much better question, however, is whether Ebony actually believes this or is just saying what he thinks Peter needs to hear.
> 
> The ship they are on is called Oasis. In the comics, Thanos had a series of ships called Sanctuary, Sanctuary II, ect. I know I'll never keep those straight, so instead I'm going to keep his planetoid from the movie called Sanctuary, and name his ships with synonyms such as Oasis, Sanctum, ect. If this bothers you at all, just consider it a translation error on Peter's universal translator. It's all from his perspective.
> 
> This chapter was actually originally a bit darker, but when I went back over it I decided to keep it a little lighter, more towards the movies, for now.
> 
>  
> 
> As for Peter going Celestial on everyone (A few people have been asking about this!) I don't want to give too much away, but I will say that while he has the potential to do some pretty sweet stuff later on, right now his connection to the light is barely more than a thread, so he can't access or control it even if he tried. It's more like a few subtle powers and abilities he's unaware of like before Ego died; his ability to not die if he touches the stone, but he still can't really control it on his own, slightly higher healing and durability(Those bruises fade way faster than they would on a normal person), and a couple of minor things that will appear in a few more chapters if you keep your eyes open. It's going to be a main driving factor of the story, and I'm glad to see so many people are picking up on it and as excited as I am.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> -OMaM


	13. Silver & Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After days in the dark and silence, hope comes in the form of a biting headache and burning lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13! Titled after Silver & Gold by WILD. I strongly suggest listening to it, I think it holds the beat of the chapter really well.
> 
> Story and characters belong to Marvel.

** **Chapter 13: Silver & Gold** **

The guards made good on Ebony's promise, releasing Peter back into his cell, unbound, and when their next meal appeared and Peter ate half of it, he found he felt perfectly fine. Drax's shackles had been removed as well, along with the chains from the bolts on the floor, though Peter noticed that now when the guards brought their meals and retrieved their trays, the ones that stayed outside of the cells held weapons at the ready. Peter was curious as to what Drax had done last time he was here to elicit such fear, but not quite curious enough to ask. He got the feeling it was one of those things he was happier just not knowing.

The routine continued like that for a while; three meals a cycle, interrupted once a cycle by their trip to the bathroom, and every other cycle by the showers. Three more showers had passed by the time Peter left the room again. By then, the ship on his cast had been reduced to a big smear, and the smiley face had begun to hold a strong resemblance to Ronan. His hand was also starting to itch terribly, and he was considering figuring out a way to remove the cast. He had always been a fast healer, thanks to his unique heritage, no doubt, so his finger was probably healed enough by now to manage as long as he didn't overdo it.

It started with a missed meal. At first, Peter had thought that time was just dragging on extra slowly that night, but hours rolled by, and his stomach made it clear that their regular dinner time had come and passed. Then when breakfast arrived, it came with only half of the usual guards. The one that stayed outside of the cells had a new heavy looking rifle strapped across his back. Shortly after breakfast came the headache, a slow creeping sort of pain that started in the base of his skull and pooled between his eyes, making his vision blur.

"I am Groot."

Peter paused in the middle of rubbing at his temples to look up at Groot in alarm. "What?"

Groot had risen to his feet and was staring up at the vents in the ceiling.

"What is he saying?" Drax asked from where he was sitting in the corner.

"He said the air's tainted," Peter answered, rubbing again at his pounding head. "What do you mean by 'tainted,' buddy?"

"I am Groot."

"It's CO," he translated for Drax. "He sais there's Carbon Monoxide coming in from the vents. Well that's not good."

A burst of fear and adrenaline briefly cut through the fog in his head. His eyes quickly scanned the room, even though he already knew there was nowhere to go, and nothing in here that could help. The guards would figure it out and come get them, right? This was pretty fancy ship from everything Peter had seen, it had to have sensors and alerts in place for this kind of thing.

"HEY!" he yelled, suddenly wishing that there was security cameras or something in here. "HEY! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME!?"

Peter screamed for a while, and Drax added his own booming voice a few times, but no answer came. He was catching his breath in the back of the cell and wondering how long it would take for the carbon monoxide to overtake the oxygen in the room when the door finally slid open and a large handful of guards pooled in, with Gamora at the lead. Thanos's daughter stalked in with a furious look in her eyes and her hand wrapped around the hilt of the Godslayer in a white knuckled grip. Her gaze swept over the room immediately, taking stalk of the prisoners as though to assure herself that they were all still there.

"What's going on?" Peter asked, pulling himself back to his feet. She didn't even dignify him with a response.

"Get them out," she snapped at the closest guards. "Get their cuffs on, and keep them close."

The guards swept in and Peter and Drax were quickly bound and shoved out into the hallway along with Groot. Two guards had their weapons trained on Drax, while the rest took up positions in front and behind, weapons held ready and eyes scanning all directions.

Gamora led them at a swift and unrelenting pace through the hallways of the ship. No alarms blared, and no lights flashed, but it was obvious that this was more than just a malfunction of the air vents. As they marched down the fifth or six hallway, honestly it was hard to count between the rapid pace and his pounding head, a flash of silver and gold caught his attention, and he straightened up. There, looped around one of the fancy sconces, and blending in with the gold plating, was a little silver chain with a tiny gold sword charm. Peter caught Drax's eye and the man gave the tiniest nod back. He'd seen it, too.

Gamora slowed to a stop ahead, and for a moment Peter thought that she'd seen it as well, but instead she raised one hand to her ear and her face twisted into a scowl.

"Keep going," she ordered. "Get them to the holding bay and keep your weapons ready."

Peter managed to catch her eye over the shoulders of the guards, and she shot him one last warning glare before darting off down a separate hallway, drawing the Godslayer and a pistol as she went.

"You heard her. Move out," came the voice of the guard closest to the lead. It was distorted by the mask and Peter realized it was the first time he had heard one of them speak.

Their procession made it down another two hallways and were descending a steep metal staircase when the lead guard raised his hand to signal a stop and cocked his head slightly as though listening to something.

"Wait," his distorted voice called back. "We have a pro-"

He was cut off by the guard just behind him raising their blaster and firing straight at his back. The lead guard's body dropped to the floor, writhing and spasming as electricity arced across his body from what appeared to be a modification of the electric disc that Rocket had used on Drax. The first guard had hardly hit the stairs before the one who attacked him was already swinging the butt of their rifle into the face of the one beside them. Drax gave a roar and slammed the closest one straight into the wall, while Groot followed his lead and rammed into the pair behind them. The scuffle was brutal, but quick, and soon the only ones left standing were the prisoners and the rogue guard. Firing one last stun pack onto a guard's body for good measure, they bent to rifle around the lead guards pockets until they found what they were looking for- a set of keys. The set jingled in their hold as they stood and used their free hand to tug off the mask.

"Give me your hands. We don't have long until Gamora comes back."

Peter couldn't help the huge grin that split his face as Nebula unlocked his and Drax's cuffs, then moved to free Groot from his shackles as well.

"Thanks for-"

"Shut up," she snapped. "We're not out of trouble yet."

Peter shut his mouth, but the stupid grin remained fixed in place.

She just rolled her eyes and tugged her mask back on, leading them further down the staircase. Several flights down, the stairs ended with a thick access door that let them into a large loading bay of some sort. Giant crates, probably full of supplies for their journey, lined the walls and created a sort of maze. Nebula sprinted across the open floor and into the labyrinth, Peter and the others hard on her heels as she weaved through the crates. She led them straight to a small door on the other side with a thick bolt and an electronic access panel set into the wall next to it. It took her three tries before she got angry and just smashed the panel with the butt of the rifle. She pulled out several wires to twist them together, and the lock on the door slid open with a little beep. When the door swung out, Peter was surprised to find that they were on a planet.

The bright light from the planet's sun stung his eyes and left him blinking away spots from his vision.

"Hurry up!" Nebula's impatient voice, distorted slightly through the mask, drew him back into action and he followed her down the small ladder leading from the door onto the planet's surface. They were in some sort of open air dock, parked in a massive red-clay dirt lot surrounded by tall dark buildings that created a staggering shadowy skyline all around them. A strong breeze stirred the top layer of dust and buffeted them lightly.

"HALT!" A loud shout from their left announced when they'd been caught. A group of guards pulled away from where they had been patrolling the perimeter of the ship and advanced straight towards them, weapons drawn.

"Go! Into the city!" Nebula shouted, turning to cover them with a smaller caliber pistol she pulled from the belt of her uniform. Drax took the lead and ran straight for a dark alleyway between two buildings that had to be at least six stories each, and had a dilapidated look with broken windows and crooked brickwork.

Whatever planet they were on must have had a pretty sparse population. Although the tightly spaced buildings spoke to a once booming city, most of the alleys they passed were empty, and the few people that he did glance quickly scattered out of their way. They led their pursuers down a dizzying path, Nebula occasionally shouting out directions from behind as they fled and dodged the weapons being fired from behind. Groot had regrown his limbs and would grab at any assorted debris they passed to lob it back at the guards as well.

Peter's lungs were still recovering from the carbon monoxide and screaming at the abuse he was putting them through.

"Take a right here!" Nebula's voice called out again and they swerved down another alley, this one was so narrow they had to race down it in single file. "Faster!" she snapped, urging them on with a shove to Peter's back that nearly sent him sprawling. He didn't even have the breath to rebuke her. They reached a portion of the alley where it widened out and Peter saw Nebula pull a small palm-sized tablet from her pocket as she pulled even with him. She typed a series of numbers in and pressed the button that appeared, and immediately an explosion shook the ground under their feet.

"Whoah!" Peter screamed, stumbling to his hands and knees. His palms stung where they scraped against the hard-packed earth. Behind them, one of the buildings was collapsing in on its self, sending out a huge cloud of dust and blocking off the route they'd come in on. "What-?"

"Come on!" A hand grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back to his feet, tugging him after the rest of the group. As soon as Peter pulled his attention back to running, Nebula let him go and took the lead again, swerving down another alley to their left.

"Did you just blow up that building?" he gasped out. "What if there were people inside?!"

"There weren't," she replied. "We have to keep moving."

They slowed from their frantic dash into a quick jog as they pulled away from their pursuers, and a minute later she typed another code into her little pocket tablet, and another explosion sounded from across the city, a thick plume of smoke rising up from the opposite direction they were headed.

"To keep them busy," she informed him, when she caught him staring in confusion.

Several minutes and two more pocket explosions later, Nebula pulled to a stop and waved at the others to get low. A vehicle of some sort was parked at the edge of this building and as Nebula ducked behind it, she pulled the mask back off, waving Drax over so she could whisper to him in a rushed tone while they peered at something over what would have been considered a hood if it had been a car. Curious, Peter crept forward to crouch at Drax's other shoulder and was surprised to find that they were staring at none other than the parked hulking form of the Oasis. They must have been circling the docks this whole time, but why would Nebula lead them back here of all places?

For the first time, Peter could get a good look at the ship he had been living on the past week or so. The first thing he noticed was that it was huge. More that huge, it was gargantuan. Easily at least the length of the Dark Aster from nose to tail, but much, much, bulkier. The entire thing was covered in a sleek polished metal that was somewhere between silver and platinum, the bottom fading a bit darker, and the top leaning more towards platinum. The ceiling-high windows that Peter had seen from inside were hardly more than speckles across the hull from out here. It looked more like a luxury cruise-ship than the dark prison he had been picturing this whole time.

"Why are we back here?" Peter asked.

"We need a ride off this planet," Nebula told him, pulling the long rifle over her shoulder and handing it to Drax, "and I have just the ship in mind. Come on, and stay low."

Tugging the mask back into place, she pulled out the pocket tablet one more time and another explosion set off in the distance, this one so huge he swore he could feel the ground tremble even from all the way over here. "That should keep them looking up," she muttered before she ducked low and darted between several other vehicles and stacks of supplies, probably waiting to load into other ships, on her way towards the back of the Oasis.

All told, the portion of the Oasis that lay on the ground could probably take up an entire football stadium, and every second they spent pacing around the edge towards whatever goal Nebula had in mind had him holding his breath as he expected to be caught. The trick with the explosions seemed to be working like a charm, however, as they stopped at the bottom of a series of indents in the hull that led up to another small access door that was hidden along the edge of the ship. To Peter's surprise, this one popped open with relative ease, no heavy deadbolts and panels that needed to be smashed, and before he knew it they were all back on the ship in some sort of supply closet that reeked of chemicals.

"Stay behind me," Nebula ordered, opening the door and checking to make sure the way was clear before waving them after. They made their way as quickly as they could through a series of small hallways, Nebula in her guard's uniform taking the lead while the other stayed always a hallway behind so they could duck out of sight if she signaled an approaching patrol. Finally, Nebula waved them all the way up to herself as she peered through a thick window set into a dull grey door.

"We're in luck," she whispered. "It's empty."

Peter peered over her shoulder to find they were at the ships' hangar. The unmistakable sight of his Milano, parked between a number of similar-sized ships that Peter couldn't immediately identify, and didn't honestly much care about, filled him with a flood of joy.

"Hey baby!" he whispered as loud as he dared as they slipped through the door and ran for the ship, stopping to give it a quick hug. "I missed you!"

"Don't make me regret this." Nebula had removed her mask again and fixed him with a disgusted look as she passed. The loading ramp was still open and Peter joined Nebula as she jogged up it, only to freeze at the top.

"I thought you might show up here eventually." Gamora stood just inside the common room of the Milano, one hand on her sword, the other wrapped around the handle of a pistol, and grinning triumphantly at Nebula. "Hand over the prisoners and the stone, and accept your fate with some measure of grace."

Nebula just snorted and drew a serrated combat knife from her uniform, crossing her wrists at she took aim with her own pistol.

"Fine," Gamora growled. "have it your way."

Gamora fired her weapon first, but Nebula ducked out of the way, dropping to dart in close and fire up at her sister's head, slashing at her side with her knife as she dodged the beam it let out. Gamora retaliated swiftly by feinting a blow with the butt of the pistol, only to bring up her leg and roundhouse kick her sister straight in the shoulder. There was no pulling punches here, and Peter heard a sharp cracking noise as the blow connected and sent Nebula stumbling back towards the table, hardly acknowledging the dislocated shoulder as she caught herself and raised her knife to block the Godslayer's blade as it swung down towards her head. Gamora didn't pull the blade back for another blow, instead leaning her weight onto the hilt to pin her sister against the table.

"You're clever, sister, but you're becoming predictable." Gamora had her back turned to Peter now, but he could still hear the smile in her voice as she taunted her sister. Peter had no weapons and for a moment he panicked as he tried to figure out how to help Nebula, but when he tried to catch her eye, he realized she didn't look nearly as concerned by being pinned against the table under a very heavy sword as she should. Instead, she glanced at something over his shoulder and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards.

"So are you," Nebula said, hardly getting the words out before Drax fired the stun rifle Nebula had given him. Gamora let out a scream and dropped to the floor and Nebula took full advantage of that moment to pin her down and wrestle her arms behind her back, pulling a set of handcuffs from her belt and fastening Gamora's hands together. Satisfied with the cuffs, she quickly stood to take the large rifle back from Drax. Peter didn't even have a chance to wonder what she was doing with it when she turned and slammed it down on her sister's head with a bang that made Peter about leap out of his skin.

"What the-!?"

"Relax. She'll have a headache when she wakes up, but she'll be fine." Nebula handed the rifle back to Drax, before gathering up the Godslayer and Gamora's discarded pistol, along with several smaller weapons she removed from her sister's pockets. "We need to get out of here soon, or we won't be."

"Watch her." She commanded, staring at Drax and Groot for a moment each. " _Carefully_."

Satisfied that they would do just that, she rolled her shoulder and snapped it back into place before hauling herself up into the flight deck. Peter followed her up, sending one last glance at Gamora's still form to reassure himself that she was still breathing before leaving their new prisoner in the care of Drax and Groot. They'd have a chance to talk again later, he needed to focus on getting out of here first.

"So, uh, how exactly are you planning to get the hangar door open?" Peter asked as he strapped himself into the co-pilot's chair, bringing the weapons system online just in case. It looked pretty heavy and he doubted his ship had any weapons that would do any more than scratch the paint.

Nebula just pulled the little tablet out from her pocket again and held it up for Peter to see.

"I haven't used them all up yet," she informed him with a wicked smile that Peter couldn't help but answer in kind. He couldn't wait to leave this awful place behind.

They rose from the hangar floor and sped straight for the closed hangar door, Peter fired at the smaller ships as they passed, taking out wings and engines to stop them from following them out. With the commotion they were making, it was no surprise when the air was quickly filled with shouts and blaring alarms, and the sound of blasters pinging off the ship's shields, but Nebula had her eyes fixed straight on the exit. With a press of the electronic tablet, a series of explosions set off along the edges of the door panel, ripping it from its frame so they could burst through the burning hole and out into open air.

As soon as they were clear of the wrecked opening they peeled up into the sky, diving straight toward one of the planets very bright suns. Peter knew this trick, the bright light would make it hard to track or fire at the ship with the naked eye.

"Last one," Nebula announced, holding up the tablet again to reveal one more virtual button. This one was red, and had a little symbol painted across it that he recognized as the universal symbol for danger. "This one's a big one."

She pressed it with her thumb and the explosion that set off behind them sent out a shock wave big enough to rock the ship. Peter pulled up a display to see what was happening behind them and was surprised to see huge plumes of black and white smoke billowing out from the hundreds of broken windows like a vent.

"I'm almost glad that Thanos will want to kill me himself if they ever catch me. Ebony Maw will be so displeased by all of this he'd drag it out for months if he could." She was laughing at the joke, but Peter was struggling to find the humor in it. He didn't have any time to dwell on it, though, as they were leaving the atmosphere and Nebula was pulling up a series of panels and maps.

"Get ready to make a jump. There's an access point just outside of the atmosphere."

In the not-so-distance, the stars were starting to shimmer and warp and Peter grabbed a hold of the arms of the chair as they shot straight through.

On the other side of the jump everything was empty and silent. The closest stars were just specks in the distance, and no planets hung in sight. In the stillness Peter felt like he could breath for the first time since Gamora had slid that needle in between his ribs so many cycles ago. Slowly, his muscles relaxed and the hard knot that had formed in his gut uncoiled just a bit.

"Keep alert for any tagalongs."

A series of familiar beeps to his left signaled that autopilot had been engaged, followed by the click and whir of Nebula disengaging her seat belt.

"We'll be making another long jump as soon as the engines cool."

"Thank you." He said, wincing slightly as she leaned back in her seat and threw her legs up on his dashboard. "For coming back."

"Don't get used to it."

"So, where are we going now?"

"Knowhere. We'll need to lay low for a while after this."

"Okay. That sounds good to me. So what made you-"

"Get out."

"What?" Peter blinked in confusion at her interruption. She'd closed her eyes and crossed her arms loosely over her stomach.

"Get out," she repeated, in a softer tone this time. "I need to rest."

"Oh." On closer inspection, he realized that she had little dark shadows under her eyes, like she'd hardly slept for days. They were hard to make out under her naturally blue and purple complexion, but now that he'd noticed them, they seemed glaringly obvious. "Okay. No problem. Just give a shout if you need anything." He unclipped his own belt and stood slowly. "Are you sure you don't want my room? It has a real bed-"

"No... Thank you."

"Okay." As Peter made his way down the ladder he threw one last look into the flight deck. It was hard to tell from this angle, but he could swear he saw the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile in the reflection on the windshield.

****End** **

 

 

 **Chapter 14 Preview:** "... _She stood for a moment over the sleeping assassin with a frown pulling at her mouth before drawing her foot back and delivering a sharp kick to Gamora's legs._

_To Peter's surprise, Gamora flinched back and opened her eyes to shoot her sister with a dirty look._

_"That's just pathetic_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end of the ugly little bracelet, for good as far as I know, but in exchange we get another major growth for our characters. Nebula even managed to actually ask for help, here. She's accepted it, before, yes, but here for the first time we see her recognize that she can't beat Gamora outright and actually asks for help from her friends before they even return to the ship. I'm so proud of her!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the break out. I'm planning to write a side chapter of the events of the last week from Nebula's point of view. I have a few paragraphs written, but I have no clue when it'll be up. I've been in a bit of a slump this week, so I've been kind of clawing for every word and playing a lot of Overwatch when I need a break.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> -OMaM


	14. Unfinished Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their imprisonment behind them, the crew sets its sights on Knowhere, but there's a few bumps in the road and some unfinished business to take care of first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [If anyone hasn't seen it, I uploaded another aside, which will be a muti-chapter one, covering the events between her leaving in Ch 11 and return in 13 from Nebula's POV.]
> 
> With this chapter and the asides I have officially written the equivalent of the first Harry Potter novel! Which means you have read the equivalent of the first harry potter novel from me. This is another big milestone for me and I'm so excited to be here and for all of you to have joined me on this journey! We still have a long ways to go.
> 
> Title is from "Unfinished Business" by Mummford and Sons. The lyrics just fit too perfectly to pass up.
> 
> Guardians of the Galaxy belongs to Marvel, I own nothing.

** **Chapter 14: Unfinished Business** **

Whether it was due to a stroke of luck, or Nebula's frightening propensity for explosives that made him miss Rocket all the more, no one ever did show up to follow them through the first jump, and they made it to the next point undisturbed.

Gamora was still unconscious, and had been moved to a clear area of the common room. She was propped up against the wall where Peter could clearly see her from where he sat at the table. The medical kit was sitting open next to his elbow, and Drax sat in the seat next to him carefully cutting the ruined cast from his arm. They both wrinkled their noses in disgust at the pale, soggy skin underneath.

"Eugh," Peter let out, reaching his other hand up to probe at the discolored flesh. "No wonder it itched so bad."

"Do not scratch at it." Drax swatted his hand away with a slap that actually stung more than just a bit. "You will only cause it more harm and delay your healing. Go wash it and dry it properly."

"Yeah, yeah," Peter huffed, flexing his had experimentally as he made his way over to the bathroom sink. A tiny part of him had half-expected the finger to explode into pain or just rebrake entirely, but other than a little bit of stiffness from his unused muscles and tendons, his finger actually felt fine.

"I am Groot," Groot offered from his own seat at the far corner from Drax.

"No thanks. I should have everything I need in the kit."

When Peter had finished washing up and returned to the table, patting at his hand with a dry towel and trying his hardest not to scratch at the feeling of a thousand ants crawling across his skin, Drax had packed away the medical kit and was regarding the assassin in the corner with an unreadable expression.

"Do you truly believe it is wise to leave her alive?" he questioned. "I believe that she has made her loyalties clear."

"We're not killing her," Peter said with an edge of warning to his voice, "but, I'm not letting her go again, either." Honestly, Peter was at a bit of a loss here. He had no clue how they were going to keep Gamora subdued for long once she woke up. She wasn't a galaxy-class assassin for nothing, and he'd seen her wriggle her way free of enough tight situations to know that there wasn't much he could do that would keep her for long, but taking more permanent actions was just out of the question.

Peter rubbed at his face with his hands. None of this was making any sense. He had been so certain that Gamora would be just as glad to leave the Titan's rule as she had the first time, so why had she betrayed him? And what was this about her parents being alive? And that creepy Black Order guy? He had a lot of questions for her as soon as she woke up.

"Perhaps Nebula will be able to provide some better means through which to keep her quiet."

At the mention of their latest savior, Peter's eyes flickered over to the hatch that led to the flight deck.

"I am Groot?" Groot asked, noticing Peter's attention wander.

"She's fine, I think. Just tired. We'll give her some time to rest."

"I am Groot?"

"I don't know. I'll go up and check on her in a bit, but for now let's let her be."

-x-

They wound up not needing to check in on her after all. Much sooner that Peter would have expected, Nebula joined them in the common room. She came down unannounced and turned directly for her sister who was still slumped unconscious in the corner. She stood for a moment over the sleeping assassin with a frown pulling at her mouth before drawing her foot back and delivering a sharp kick to Gamora's legs.

To Peter's surprise, Gamora flinched back before Nebula's foot connected and opened her eyes to shoot her sister with a dirty look.

"That's just pathetic." Nebula snorted.

"What's pathetic is you aligning yourself with these mangy little misfits," Gamora sneered up at her sister while she straightened herself into a more comfortable position. "Honestly, sister? Ravagers? and father's old guinea pigs? What could you possibly hope to achieve with them? Not to mention that idiot over there." Dark eyes flickered over to where Peter was sitting at the table for just a moment, and he found himself sitting up just a little straighter under her scrutiny.

"I'm going to do what you are too weak and blinded to do; I'm going to kill our father,” She proclaimed.

Peter felt a tiny twinge of trepidation at that. Yes, he'd promised to help her kill Thanos if -and only _if_!- they failed to find a way to right the timelines, but he still had no intentions of toeing off with that mad Titan with this half-formed version of his guardians. The mental image of them all being smushed like bugs under a giant purple thumb was a little too vivid for his liking.

Gamora actually threw her head back and laughed here, and it took a good minute for her to get her breath back enough to continue the conversation.

"Well, that is an ambitious goal," she chuckled. "Please, sister, there are far less brutal ways to die than whatever our father will have done to you for this. You may still have a chance to redeem yourself. You have the Star-lord in your possession. Return him to father as a gift and perhaps he will show you mercy."

"You know exactly the kind of mercies Thanos has always shown me. I am sick of them. I would rather die."

Gamora's face fell back into a frown.

"Honestly, Gamora, you must be feeling desperate if you're resorting to begging."

"I do not beg," She snarled back. Nebula just rolled one shoulder into a lazy shrug.

"It doesn't matter. You aren't going anywhere, so get comfortable." Nebula took a step towards the flight deck, but paused suddenly and turned back to bend down and remove her sister's boots.

"Hey!" Gamora yelped and kicked at her sister, but Nebula managed to wrestle the shoes off.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked from his seat at the table, confused by the sudden action. Maybe she knew her sister was hiding weapons or something? But Nebula didn't bother to so much as give the boots a cursory inspection before tossing them to the far side of the room.

"Nothing," She told him without looking back. The look of unbridled fury on her sister's face told him it wasn't nothing, but not much more than that. "Get comfortable," Nebula repeated with an flash of teeth before turning again and climbing back up into the flight deck.

With one last glance at Gamora, who pointedly refused to return his gaze, he stood and followed the blue assassin up.

"We're making another jump," she warned him as he got close. Peter quickly took a seat next to her, but didn't bother strapping in.

"Did you come down there just to gloat?" he asked, as the engines hummed a little louder, and a jump point shimmered into life in front of them. "And what was that thing with her boots about?"

"She knows what it's about, and that's all that matters," Nebula answered cryptically.

"Oookay." Obviously he wasn't going to be getting any answers there, and he had more important things on his mind. "Well, anyways, now that you're clearly feeling good enough to talk, can we?"

"What could you possibly want to talk about now?" she huffed, eyes straight ahead as the entered the tiny wormhole, but her grip on the controls was loose. It was probably more of a token protest than anything else at this point. "I didn't kill your friend, and I won't as long as she doesn't become a threat."

"And I'm really grateful for that. Thank you. But, I gotta ask, why _did_ you take her? Why not just knock her out and leave her there?"

"She knows too much. We can't let her get back to Thanos with the information she has. I don't know how you managed to get her on your side long enough to use the Infinity Stone in your universe, but I doubt she'll be turning on him any time soon here. We'll just have to find a way to use the stone without her."

"Her parents." The thing Gamora had told him back on his first day aboard the Oasis had never really stopped bugging him, always clawing at the back of his mind like a cat scratching at the bottom of a door they wanted opened. "Back on the ship, the Oasis or whatever, she said that Thanos saved her parents. What do you know about that?"

The wormhole ended abruptly and in the silence that followed Peter watched with a knot squirming in his gut as she stared out the window, jaw clenched and unblinking.

"Nebula?" he probed when she had been silent for so long that she might have just been flat out refusing to answer his question. There as a faint beep, and the navigation panels read out; The Lorideh Systems. A small blue and green map displayed several inhabited planets nearby. Their current rout avoided all of them.

"Not much," she finally breathed. "I was hardly more than an infant when Thanos acquired her, so I only know what little came up later. She claims her home world was laid to waste by The Inquisitors-"

"-The who?" Peter couldn't help but interrupt. Nebula rebuked him with a glare, but continued anyways.

"An order of religious fanatics. They are long since disbanded. She told me once, when we were children, that Thanos appeared in time to save both her and her parents, but her home world was lost. She claims that he wiped out the Inquisitors and reclaimed her old planet into a refuge, a great city where others like them thrive under his protection, and has sworn her loyalty to him and his cause. She told me 'I will make sure that others do not suffer as I have suffered." There was a heavy note of disgust in her voice.

"You don't sound like you believe much of this?"

"My father does not have havens, or refugees. Only prisoners and corpses."

"So is it true? Are her parents alive?"

Nebula just shrugged stiffly, not seeming to be enjoying this conversation so far. "She believes they are, so does it matter?"

"Yeah, it does." He thought about his own Gamora, about the pain that she couldn't entirely hide whenever the subject of her parents came up, about the raw hatred she still aimed squarely at Thanos who had killed them right in front of her. A trauma that had left a scar inside of her which she would never truly heal from. "It matters a lot."

Her mouth was pressed into a thin line and the corner twitched down as though she doubted that. Sensing that her patience here was wearing out, and honestly she'd already given him more than he would have usually hoped for, he decided to change the subject.

"That's not why I came up here, anyways." Nebula's frown loosened and she turned a questioning look on him. "I wanted to apologize – again- for... what I said. And for not listening to you. And nearly getting us all thrown back to where we started, or worse. And to thank you, for saving us."

"Don't make me do it again." That was as close to a 'you're welcome' as he was going to get.

"So what made you come back?"

Another pause, but a much less uncomfortable one.

"It's okay, you don't have to say it, I know that you missed u-"

"Thanos has taken another three galaxies in the time since we parted."

Peter nearly choked on his own words. Three galaxies? In what, nine cycles? How was that even possible?

"Something has changed." Her eyes were narrowed slightly, as though asking him something, but he had no clue what. "Something has made him more bold, or more desperate."

Peter swallowed thickly. Was it because he'd been caught? That seemed to be what Nebula was implying here. What in all the known universe did the Titan have planned for him?

"I don't have time for a new plan, anymore," she continued, "and whatever he intends to do once he has you, I don't think it will be doing the galaxies any favors."

"Okay. So-"

"So keep your eyes open, and don't get caught again."

"I'll do my best," he promised.

Nebula snorted derisively. "I would suggest you do better than that."

Peter's laugh was cut short by a scream followed by a sharp bang from below. Peter and Nebula were both sprinting for the ladder before the echo had stopped ringing from the walls.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON DOWN HERE?!" he shouted, landing hard.

Drax was standing with his back turned towards Peter, muscles bulging as he struggled against Groot who appeared to be holding him back, just barely, his wide-eyed look of terror landing squarely on Peter as though asking for help.

"Hey, calm down!" Drax just shook him off when Peter placed his arm on the giant man's shoulder. Peering over the maniac's shoulder, he could see Gamora, still sitting in the corner they'd left her in, but on the floor next to her Peter was alarmed to see the backrest of one of the seats from the table. A small dent in the wall over her head painted the not so surprising picture of Drax flinging the hunk of metal at her after ripping it from the base.

"What did you do?! My ship! Come on -we just fixed it!"

"That whore speaks lies!" Drax roared.

" Your family was selfish and weak-minded!" Gamora hurdled back.

"My family was strong and honorable!"

"I am Groot!" Groot's branches were creaking under the strain of holding back the ex-gladiator who's face was turning dark.

"They stood against my father! Against the peace his rule will bring! On their own it was only a matter of time before some race with greater technology came and slaughtered them all. Ronan's hand was no-doubt merciful compared to what could have been." Gamora was leaning forward now, a wild desperate light in her eyes that actually scared Peter a little bit.

"Shut up!" he screamed at her, doing his best to shove himself in front of Drax and block their eye contact. "You are not helping your case, here!"

"I have no case!" she spat back, turning her venom on him now. "I will never join you, so either kill me or let me go! I must return to my father!" Gamora suddenly dropped her head, shaking it like she had something stuck in her ear. "I have to go back," she repeated, in a quieter tone so Peter had to lean in slightly to hear it.

"You're not going back, sister," Nebula cut in, moving around the table to stand at her other side. "You're _never_ going back."

"You're a _traitor_ , Nebula."

"No, Gamora. You are a fool."

"She is a miserable wretched whore," Drax grumbled from where he was still entangled in Groot's branches. "Infinity Stone be damned! I say we throw her out the the cargo door and be done with it."

Nebula glanced up, considering their enraged teammate for just a moment before she rolled her eyes and stepped forward. One boot came down on Gamora's arm, pinning it against her side, and she stooped down to wrestle something from her sister's hands. When she stood back up, she held out a sharp, disfigured piece of metal that appeared to have broken off of the piece of chair Drax had tried to smash her head in with.

"She is just trying to rile you up so she can manipulate you." There was a tiny ringing bang as she slapped the little shard down on the table for all to see. It wasn't big at all, hardly even the length of Peter's palm, but it was wickedly sharp, and in the hands of Gamora, plenty lethal. "Don't let her."

-x-

After the chair incident, Peter did his best to ensure that Drax and Gamora weren't left alone, ever. Keeping them apart wasn't much of an option on the tiny ship, but the rest of the group would take turns watching her to make sure she stayed out of trouble. For her own part, Gamora was pretty quiet. After her initial attempt to escape was thwarted, she didn't make any further tries at riling up Drax or do much of anything, really.

At the moment, she was stuck to one of the standing handles in the flight deck, the chain of the handcuffs ran through the little leather-like loop that was meant for crew members to grab onto in case they were caught standing during unexpected turbulence. When Peter was still very new to space, Kraglin had once introduced them as the 'oh shit handles' and the name had always stuck in his brain.

It was Peter's turn to watch her, and it happened to overlap with his shift as navigator. With the ship on autopilot, it was a mostly uneventful job, largely consisting of monitoring the engines to ensure they were properly cooled between each jump. The reborn Milano that the Nova Corps had gifted him and his crew mates with had been equipped with a more modern engine that could handle jumps with relative ease, and even take multiple jumps without risking overheating or damaging the engines. This old version, however, was designed to be used as an accessory ship, and jumps had to be spaced far between, making the going slow and tedious.

On the up side, it gave him plenty of time to talk to Gamora. On the down side, he had no clue how to do that. All attempts at conversation so far had earned him a halfhearted glare at best, and were more often than not just completely ignored. The last half hour or so had just been spent in silence. Typically he'd be listening to the Redbones' singing along to 'Come and Get Your Love' on his Walkman by now. Instead he was fiddling with the broken hinge and a piece of scrap wiring, trying to hash together enough of a functional cover to trick it into playing.

For the umpteenth time the little wire slipped from the hinge and jabbed him in his thumb which was starting to turn red from all the abuse. A low groan escaped his lips as he slumped even further down in his chair. Deciding he should take a break for a while, before he lost his temper or broke down into tears of frustration, it was a fair bet either way right now, Peter tore his eyes from the cracked case and looked around for something else to distract himself with.

All the charts were normal, though, and the engines were cooling at a decent pace. He would probably have to check the coolant lines after all this, but those were best to mess with when they were docked. The engine room was always uncomfortably hot during flight. He could probably cook an egg down there right now, or an entire Gallorian hen. Finally, his eyes landed on Gamora, standing on the other side of the co-pilot's chair and gazing absently out at the distant stars. A tiny huff of laughter escaped before he could catch himself.

"What?" she asked with a sharp note of warning in her voice.

"Nothing. This just reminds me of a time back in my universe. Only there, _you_ were piloting the ship with me and Nebula was the one handcuffed to the ship and pouting about it."

"Why was she handcuffed to the ship?" Gamora asked, graciously ignoring the pouting comment.

"Oh, it was before you guys were almost getting along. The Sovereign caught her trying to steal some of their batteries and gave her to us in exchange for taking out some huge gooey tentacle monster. She only had one of her hands, though, so handcuffing her was kind of awkward."

"Why would she only have one hand?" This was the most words Gamora had said in hours, so Peter went ahead and kept answering her questions.

"She lost her mechanical one on Xandar I guess. When you guys were fighting on the Dark Aster. She got it stuck on some wire or something sticking out of the ship. You offered to help her then, but she ripped her hand off and ran away instead."

"And even after all of this, you would have her as a teammate? Why?"

"Didn't you already ask me this?"

"I asked you how you convinced my sister to work with you. Now I want to know why you would trust her."

"She's really not a bad person once you give her a chance... Or a few. I mean, she came back and saved our butts when she didn't have to, and she's been looking out for me pretty much ever since she decided to help me back on Ronan's ship. Yeah, she's done some bad things, but so have I. So have you. Hell, no one here is innocent, not even Groot, and he's basically goodness personified."

They fell back into silence for a while after that. Gamora stared sightlessly out the windshield and Peter slouched back down in his seat while he took another swing at threading the wire through the plastic hinge. He had given up and set it aside again and was tapping his toe along to an imaginary beat while he counted passing stars when Gamora broke the silence.

"You have terrible judgment."

"What?" Peter struggled to drag his consciousness back onto the ship.

"You have terrible judgment, Peter Quill. You are surrounded with maniacs and traitors, and you have kept me alive, even after I betrayed and stabbed you. You thought I could be trusted, and look how that ended for you."

"Are you talking about that little pinprick? Oh, come on, that's not even the worst stabbing I've ever had by a woman scorned. Turns out, scorned women are very stabby, by the way." Peter lifted his shirt to reveal a big ugly scar over his ribs. "See this? _That_ 's the top of the list. She stabbed me with a fork. And that?" He moved his finger to indicate a small dark spot a little further down that could almost be mistaken for a freckle. "That's from your little toothpick. It's already healed, and almost faded. I'm pretty sure you got me much worse when we met on Xandar."

"Please do not count me alongside your... conquests."

"I'm not. I swear," he promised, dropping his shirt to hold his hands up. "I just meant, if I stopped talking to everyone who ever tried to kill me, I'd be out of friends pretty quickly."

Gamora's brows knit together and her nose wrinkled as she stared down at him.

"But I guess that kind of supports your whole theory about my bad judgment... My point is, I get that I can't trust you yet- believe me I get it-, but I know you, Gamora, you're a good person. You can't just sit back and watch Thanos murder all these innocent people-"

"It's for the greater good," she said stiffly.

"What greater good could possibly come out of this?"

"He's going to bring balance to the universe. An end to the wars and suffering." That weird frantic light that had scared him back in the common room was creeping its way into her eyes again, and she shifted slightly, like she was suddenly uncomfortable where she had been standing quietly for the past hour or so.

"He's waging war," Peter pressed carefully. "He wiped out Xandar. All of it. Even the children. Just turned them all to dust."

"Stop it." She wasn't looking directly at him now, eyes shifting restlessly and not quite focusing on anything in particular in the tiny cockpit, and she shook her head slightly like she was trying to shake off a bad thought that wouldn't come loose. "You just don't get it. Peace has to be obtained at a high price."

Peter's brows scrunched together as he recognized Ebony Maw's words from that strange breakfast on the Oasis. He thought back to the irresistible pull in the man's voice, the way his words sounded so reasonable and so right that Peter had almost desperately wanted him to be right. If he had stayed with the man for longer, or if he had tried harder to persuade Peter, would this be him? A shudder of revulsion raced down his back as he realized he wasn't sure. It could very well have been. And he was suddenly even more grateful that they had been rescued before Ebony could arrange another visit.

A hard lump had formed in his throat and Peter didn't know what else to say here.

Eventually his shift ended, and Nebula appeared to take over. He'd been so lost in his thought he hadn't realized she was there until she cleared her throat right behind him. He felt a little guilty at how relieved he was to get away from Gamora for a little while, not enough to make him linger in the cockpit, but it was just barely enough to stop him from bolting straight for the exit.

Down below he made a straight line for the bathroom. He could really use a hot shower. He suddenly felt incredibly filthy and wanted to scrub every atom of that place off.

-x-

Peter entered his room still steaming a bit from his shower, dressed in clean clothes and feeling significantly better. A white fluffy towel obscured his vision as he buffed his damp hair with it. Between the flapping ends darting across his face, he caught sight of something sitting on his bed. Pausing what he was doing, he dropped the towel over his shoulders and bit the inside of his lip as he stared at the orb containing the Infinity Stone sitting just below his pillow, like an unwelcome pet that had crawled its way into his bed and made its self at home.

Nebula must have left it there to keep it away from Gamora, but it was no less unwelcome in his room. Picking it up with the tips of his fingers, he shoved it into the drawer on his end table and slammed it shut, wiping his fingers off on his pants before crawling into bed and tugging the covers over himself. The soft mattress felt wonderful after so many nights spent on the freezing cold floor of his cell on the Oasis, and he found himself quickly slipping off to sleep despite the Infinity Stone sealed away so close to his head.

When he woke, the room was dark and quiet, almost too quiet. With how hard they were working the engines, he should be able to hear them cooling through his bedroom walls. Maybe they had decided to dock somewhere to give the ship a break.

Peter slid the blankets off and stood, taking a good stretch and popping his back before reaching for the control on his door. The door slid open with a tiny _whish_ to reveal the common room which was just as quiet and dark as his room had been. That was definitely odd. Even if they were docked, the main lights should still be on. Instead it was almost as dark as when the Warbird had disabled the ship entirely.

"Hello?" he called out, feeling an uncomfortable crawling sensation work its way up his spine when no one answered. The access ramp was closed, and there was clearly no one here in the common room with him, so he made his way around the table and up the ladder into the cockpit.

There were no lights on up here, either, but outside of the window the stars looked huge and dazzling, colorful galaxies swirled together and the room was flooded with starlight bright enough that he could make out all the details of Gamora who was leaning over the controls with her back turned to him.

He should have been terrified, some part of him knew that -had Gamora somehow got the jump on his crew and taken his ship again?- but instead he only felt a hollow, cold, curiosity as he joined her at the controls. Up close, the ends of her hair, which he had thought were reflecting the starlight, seemed instead to be made of it, giving out the same eerie glow and leaving trails of sparkling dust where it bounced over her shoulders as she turned to face him.

"Peter," her voice was strange, muffled and distorted as though she were speaking to him from a great distance. "Peter, why are you running from me?"

"I-I'm not," Peter stuttered. Her eyes were boring into him like drills, reflecting the icy light so that they looked like chips of ice or frozen diamonds set into her face.

A hand that he knew was green, but appeared a dazzling silver here, lifted from the controls and reached for him, stopping just inches away from brushing his face.

"I can't reach you." Her voice seemed to echo around him as he spoke and she leaned her body forward until he could make out the fine designs traced across her brows and feel her frozen breath across his skin. "Yet."

The last word was accompanied by the sound of breaking glass, and the windshield above him shattered. Tens of thousands of shards rained down, and more after that, sparkling and shining like all the stars from the sky outside were pooling into his ship and burying him in their frozen light. With a gasp Peter screwed his eyes shut and threw his arm over his face, but the light found its way in through the cracks of his eyelids and burned through his eyes and into his skull, filling him with its icy emptiness until he woke thrashing under his covers, the end of a horrid strangled gasp dieing on his lips.

His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird and his throat hurt like someone had been strangling him as he clawed his way out from his sheets and stumbled out his bedroom door. Out in the common room, he was relieved to find the lights on, and Drax and Groot sitting at the table, a set of playing cards arrayed in some sort of fashion between them.

"What is wrong?" Drax asked, noticing Peter's disheveled state. His voice came from where he sat at the end of the table, and there was no echo bouncing around them.

"No-nothing," Peter managed, feeling the anxiety melt away under the warm lights. "Just a bad dream. Sorry."

****End** **

 

 

**Chapter 15 Preview:** "... _They'd hardly made it out of sight of the docks when a pair of armed guards, a pale pink Krylorian and something with fins that Peter didn't immediately recognize, both dressed in matching grey and black uniforms with no helmets, materialized out of the crowd and blocked the path in front of them._

_"Halt!" One commanded, holding their sizable palm out_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter was really fun to write, I hope it didn't feel like I was trying to trick you with that last dream sequence, I was just basing it off of some dreams of my own where I'll wake up in my bed and it takes a while for me to figure out that this is a dream. It always adds a new layer of creep to it for me. Mine don't end quite as nicely as Peter's did though. lol.
> 
> The boots thing is a reference to something I'm hoping to add in later, either in text or as an aside.
> 
> So we get to clear up a few things from the last chapter, and set up for some reveals in the next one, although the big reveal at the end you've probably all guessed by now to some extent, but it should still be fun. Nebula's main arc has more-or-less come to the downswing(obviously, she still has growing to do, but her main crisis is passed, she's made her decision and now she lives with the consequences of it.) and Gamora's is winding up into its full swing. I also get to introduce some more characters and extended plot points. Yay! Moving on to the next portion of the story where we get to move on to wider parts of the universe.
> 
> -OMaM


	15. Howl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew finally makes it to Knowhere, but there's a whole new kind of surprise waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little early, but I was so excited to upload this I just couldn't wait! I actually finished this days ago and am almost done with the next one as well. I worked my butt off for the action scene at the end and really trimmed it way down. It's maybe half the words I originally had, so hopefully it's a bit clearer and less bogged down. I posted it up for some critiques on the FF.net forums and got some advise, so hopefully my action scenes will keep getting stronger and more enjoyable as we go. I already feel like I learned a lot just from this one. The whole point of this project was to find my weak points and build on them and I feel like I learn something new each chapter.
> 
> Finding a title for this chapter was a pain. Most chapters I write with the title in mind, even if some I end up changing when the chapter ends up too long or does/doesn't include a specific scene I was planning on. I eventually settled on "Howl" by Florence and the Machine.
> 
> I do not own GotG or Marvel, this is purely for fun.

** **Chapter 15: Howl** **

Peter couldn't help the swell of relief he felt when they passed the final jump and Knowhere came into view, first on the monitors and then in the windshield. The hollowed out Celestial's head was a bit more disturbing to behold now that Peter knew he was half Celestial himself, and sometimes he found himself wondering what they would have been like before, and what had killed them. Is this what Ego could have become if he had chosen to build a great body instead of a planet around his core brain? He put a lot of effort into not thinking too long or hard about this, though, as they entered the gigantic skull and pulled into a port.

The place was as bustling and lively as he remembered it. Aliens of all sorts of races and ages scurried around the docks, some hauling equipment, others chatting in big animated groups. Children raced unattended through the streets, laughing and howling as they not-so-accidentally bumped and jostled each other into strangers in the crowd that would likely have lighter pockets afterwards. As a group of children made their way past his group, Peter shoved his hands into the pockets of his red duster, which he had found discarded on the floor of his room on the Milano. Apparently, Gamora had retrieved it along with her sword to erase any suspicions that might arise over him leaving without it. He didn't really have much of anything worth stealing on him, but he still didn't fancy unexpectedly parting with any of it.

Behind him, Nebula and Drax were keeping a careful eye on Gamora who was wedged between them, her boots had been returned and her hands were now cuffed in front of her, with Peter's shorter red jacket draped over them so it wouldn't be so obvious. The last thing they needed was some overzealous outlaw trying to cut in on some bounty they thought they could get. At the back of the group, supposedly keeping his eye on Gamora, but much more likely to be smiling and waving at the passing children, was Groot.

They were headed towards an establishment which Peter had visited a couple of times with his Guardians; a quiet place that boasted complete animosity with all of its clients. As long as you had the units, they really didn't want to know who you were or what you were using the rooms for. It seemed like the best bet for laying low and gathering some information on Thanos's army and maybe even a lead on his still missing teammate. Normally, he'd be treading the very well-worn path to a bar, but he didn't trust Gamora not to try something in such a busy place.

They'd hardly made it out of sight of the docks when a pair of armed guards, a pale pink Krylorian and something with fins that Peter didn't immediately recognize, both dressed in matching grey and black uniforms, materialized out of the crowd and blocked the path in front of them.

"Halt!" one commanded, holding their sizable palm out.

"Whoah! Take it easy," Peter said, taking his hands from his pockets slowly and holding them up to show they were empty. "We're not here for trouble, just looking for a place to stay."

A low feral growl erupted behind them and Peter spun in surprise to find another pair of guards with a dog standing between them. Its tawny body was covered with a bulky white space suit and its lips were peeled back to reveal its very sharp teeth.

"Easy boy," Peter soothed, trying to remember how he used to handle his grandfather's farm dog which hadn't much liked him either. "Nice doggie."

The dog took a pace forward, its hackles up and its head held low. When its dark copper eyes met his, Peter thought he felt something like a shock of electricity run up his neck.

"Hey, I think I know you. You were in the Collector's... collection, right? You're from Earth. I'm from Earth, too. From Missouri. So we can be buddies, yeah?"

To his surprise, the growling actually faded away and the tawny labrador – that word suddenly came back to him, their neighbor had had a labrador named Daisy back on Earth - cocked its head and regarded him with an intelligence that by far exceeded what he remembered of Daisy.

Peter glanced over the guards behind the dog, but they seemed to be waiting for orders. Drax, Nebula, and Groot had drawn close around Gamora who was appearing rather smug about this turn of events and was no doubt looking for a way to exploit it.

Peter was glancing around, trying to figure out who he was supposed to be appealing to here, when the dog seemed to suddenly relax, tail dropping down to a regular height and jaw falling open to let a long pink tongue loll out through the side.

_Is alright._ A heavily accented voice that reminded him of old war movies from home flooded his head. The guards seemed to hear it, too as they unanimously relaxed their weapons. _Brother Peter comes in peace. Comes here to look for help, not to harm._

"Alright, I know a telepath when I hear one," Peter called out, searching the area for the source. "Why don't you come out and show yourself?"

A sharp bark brought his attention back to the dog which appeared to be smiling at him now, tongue bouncing as it panted.

_Cosmo is not hiding. Cosmo is right here, Peter Quill._

"Ooookay," Peter drew out, letting his hands fall slack to his sides. "That's a new one."

"Do all Earth Quadrapeds posses such talents?" Drax asked from beside him.

_Cosmo is, how you say, special,_ _T_ he dog, Cosmo, answered, ears twitching as he turned his eyes on Drax. _Cosmo was sent to space by Earth scientists, but was lost from orbit. Cosmo fell through worm's hole, drifted through the cosmos and galaxies until he found his way here. Cosmo was so thirsty, was dieing. Drank from the Celestial, and was restored, but now Cosmo is connected. When one you call Collector found him, Cosmo was still weak from trek through the Blinding Place, and agreed to stay with him in exchange for safety, and shelter. Now Collector is gone, and Cosmo has found new purpose. Cosmo protect the citizens of Knowhere._

"Wait. The Collector's gone? What do you mean, gone?" Peter asked.

_Cosmo is not sure._ Cosmo's mouth closed and his head tilted in the other direction as if to show his confusion. _Collector vanish one day and not come back. Cosmo think he fled. A ship come shortly after, with armored men who were looking for him. Was before Cosmo was Head of Security, though, so Cosmo does not know much more. Is sorry, brother Peter._

"No, no, that's... something." Honestly, he had no clue what, though. "How'd you know my name was Peter?"

_Cosmo see it in Peter's mind. Can read many thoughts. Helps in sniffing out troublemakers. Cosmo come because he sense darkness and ill intentions upon your arrival, but sees now that it was only your prisoner who reeked of rot._

Peter narrowed his eyes at that. He couldn't really refute the ill intentions Gamora might have held, but it rubbed him the wrong way to hear someone speak of her that way. Cosmo seemed to sense his unease, either through his mental connection, or through more conventional means, and gave a languid wag of his tail while his mouth split back into a panting smile.

_Cosmo apologizes. Cosmo did not mean to upset brother Peter and his comrades. We will speak of other things now. Come._ The astronaut dog broke away from his guards to trot straight past Peter and his crew, his tail held high behind him. _Cosmo know of perfect place for new friends to find rest._

After exchanging uneasy glances the group turned and followed him. The mismatched guards melted back into the crowd and vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

-x-

Cosmo led them to an unremarkable structure with solid walls, and a blue Steele door that split apart in the center as their guide approached. It had probably been scavenged from the ship of one of the earliest settlers here. The building certainly looked old enough, with its dull, grey walls, marbled with water stains and greasy smudges, where uncountable people had placed their palms.

_This is called First House._ Cosmo informed them as the lights inside flickered to life. The outside may have been archaic and uninspired, but the inside had obviously been well cared for and regularly updated. The floor was covered with a polished tile which had a crooked sort of striped design that reminded him of hardwood panels. The main room had the feeling of a lounge of sorts, with a couple of mismatched but well-polished control panels between a series of doors all lined up on the far wall, and a couple of equally hodge-podged but nice couches set across from each other on the blank walls. There was even a scraggly little potted plant wedged in one of the corners, and a low table with a couple decks of cards and some simple games tucked underneath it. _Cosmo use it sometimes as jail to scare younger ones straight, as you say._

Cosmo turned to fix his guests with an loppy grin over his shoulder.

_You are welcome to use it as jail to keep your non-comrade out of trouble while you are here._ As he spoke – thought?- thought-spoke, Cosmo approached a control panel that was built into one of the walls, placing his front feet on it and as Peter watched, a series of switches in front of him seemed to flick themselves over.

"Whoah!" Peter exclaimed, stepping closer for a better look. "You can move stuff, too?"

_Da! Cosmo does not have thumbs like such machines are designed for._

"That is so cool!"

_Cosmo is glad brother Peter thinks so._ Cosmo panted as one of the doors that matched the one leading to outside slid open. _Cosmo much enjoys his gifts from the Blinding Place as well._

"The Blinding wh-"

"This place hardly seems suitable for keeping prisoners." Drax's voice drowned out Peter's question as the maniac stepped around them to investigate the open door.

_Is much more secure than it looks,_ Cosmo assured them.

Peter stepped around to get a good view of the room as well, and found it looked more like a cozy inn than the blank prison cell he was expecting. The walls were a pleasant off-white, and a thick padded mattress sat on a solid metal block set into one wall. A wide, short window, too small to fit through, and too frosted to see through, let in some of the ambient light from up high on the back wall.

"This is much too nice," Drax griped as though echoing Peter's thoughts. "I say we remove the mattress and leave her in the dark like she did with us."

Peter glanced back to see Gamora fixing them with a dirty look while Nebula appeared to be battling a smug smile beside her sister.

"No, it doesn't matter," Peter finally said. "As long as it can hold her while we take a break and gather some intel. I'm not planning to stay here too long, anyways. We still need to go retrieve Rocket. I don't like just leaving him out there like this."

From back in the main room, Gamora gave a derisive snort.

"That rat will be long gone from Half-world by the time you go looking for him. If he's even still breathing."

"I doubt our father would destroy the uplift over this," Nebula contradicted, dark eyes flickering over to Peter. "Although, if he knows that you are after him, he has no doubt been moved, and it may be difficult to locate him again."

"Well, while we're here we can ask around and see if anyone has heard anything about... an uplift? Is that what you keep saying?" Nebula just nodded back.

_Cosmo can come with,_ Cosmo offered, dropping his front feet back to the floor, his toe nails clicking against the tile. _Can put citizens, how you say, more at ease and help find information of Peter's missing comrade faster._

"That sounds like a good idea." Peter smiled down at the Head of Security. "Thanks."

_Da! Is no problem. Cosmo happy to help brother Peter._ His tawny tail swept back and forth in a happy wag. _Cosmo will summon guard friends to watch over prisoner while we are away._

"Are we sure we can trust this mutt?" Nebula had stepped closer and mumbled this under her breath, casting a suspicious look at Cosmo, who had turned away and seemed to be staring intently at something beyond the blank grey wall.

"I think so," Peter answered. "I mean, he seems cool, and I don't know why a dog would want to turn us over to Thanos or help Gamora escape. She's as much a threat to his people as to us, right?"

_Blue friend is right to be suspicious of motives,_ Cosmo's words drifted through Peter's mind again as the dog turned his attention back to the room. _But Cosmo only want to ensure safety of citizens. One known as Thanos, and angry green prisoner, threaten that. Cosmo would feel better if she were kept in place he knows is secure. And sooner he helps brother Peter find the scent of his missing friend, the sooner he and his friends set off on the trail and take dangerous woman with them._

"We are not looking for his scent," Drax sighed. "We are looking for information."

_Of course,_ Cosmo panted, not looking the least bit upset by Drax's rebuttal. _And Cosmo know just the place to start looking for such._

-x-

Cosmo led them now to a bar that Peter thought he might have entered once before in search of a bathroom, but hadn't stayed in for long. Peter was more of a whiskey and pool guy, and this was more of a sparkling sweet drinks and hazy grey air kind of place.

Still, he followed, batting at the smokey air uselessly as Cosmo led them straight to the bar counter, hopping up on a thick red stool and placing his paws on the sparkling counter top.

_Comrad Ellik!_ Cosmo greeted the bartender who was busy cleaning a cup with two of his four arms. The other two were crossed over his broad chest.

"Hey there, Chief." The burly crimson man returned the greeting with an easy smile. "What can I do for you?"

_Cosmo come to see if Ellik can help new brother Peter. Is missing friend, and Cosmo would like to help him locate them._

"Yeah." Peter took a seat next to Cosmo at the counter, holding his hand out to shake one of the bartender's free ones. "And any information on Thanos from the last few weeks would be helpful as well."

-x-

They visited several establishments and managed to learn a few things of interest. Thanos' most recent conquests were a set of allied galaxies that were considered a stronghold by many. It boasted the safest and fastest route through a very dangerous portion of the star systems where erratic asteroid belts and magnetic disturbances made even the jump points difficult and risky to access, and so it had risen to a prosperous and considerable power through collecting taxes and regulating wares and disputes. The trio was basically a small fortress, and Ronan, with an army that sounded much grander than the one he had commanded the last time Peter met him in battle, had overrun it and claimed the passage in the name of Thanos.

"So how bad is this exactly?" Peter asked between bites of his food as they all sat in a round booth at the fourth establishment.

"It's very bad," Nebula answered from across the table. Her own plate was shoved aside as she worked on re-calibrating something in her left wrist. Occasionally, Nebula would pause what she was doing to take a small bite. Peter was suspicious that Drax was kicking her under the table by the way he shifted in his seat each time, and the very pointed look she had sent him earlier. Honestly, he was grateful for Drax's pestering, because he was pretty sure she had missed a few meals along with sleep during their time apart, and he was getting ready to say something himself when he had noticed what Drax was doing. "The Kellen Fords were one of the last obstacles that kept my father in this portion of the galaxies. With them gone, and the trade route under his control it won't be long before he launches his next assault and takes another sizable chunk of the known universe."

"I am Groot?" A large, wide bowl of water sat in front of Groot in place of a plate, and Groot was enjoying pushing the little floating petals and slices of fruit around it.

"He wants to know if there would have been any survivors," Peter translated when his crewmate's eyes turned to stare at him expectantly.

Nebula snorted her doubt, then jumped in her seat and shot Peter a heated glare when it was his boot that connected with her shin this time. Peter met her burning gaze with a look of his own, eyes darting over to Groot who's eyes were wide and horrified at the thought of all the death, then back to her. Nebula seemed to get his hint, closing the panel of her wrist with a click and sitting back.

"The gateways, ports, and relief points will undoubtedly require more skilled labor than my father will want to spare from his army. It would be unwise to kill them all." She shot Peter a deadpanned look that promised he would be paying for this later. "I am... sure they are fine."

"I am Groot."

_Cosmo understand tree friend's pain, but these things that are already passed cannot be changed,_ Cosmo answered, cutting off Peter's translation. _Is better to focus on next step of own journey, and perhaps you will help them in a greater way._

"Wait," Peter cut back in. "You can understand him?"

_Da. Cosmo can understand tree friend, howyousay, more or less._ Cosmo was sitting on the cushioned seat to Peter's right, paws on the table on either side of his own plate. _Cannot read thoughts, is not same as Peter's or Cosmo's. Is more like trying to sniff out colors. But when tree friend speaks, he pulls thoughts into something Cosmo can then understand._

_"_ Huh," Peter breathed. "So like, plants thoughts are different? Like how telepaths can't read robots?"

_No, not exactly._ Cosmo tilted his head and drew his brows up in an expression that would have been comically adorable on another dog's face. _Cosmo can clearly_ see _tree's thoughts, like fish in pond, small, big, happy, angry, but cannot understand what they mean. Cosmo cannot see robot's at all, and mixedup minds, like blue friend's, are tricky. Will chase a thought only to lose it when it passes through cybernetics where Cosmo cannot follow, like rabbit slipping into tiny burrow._

Peter stole a glance at Nebula who had returned her attention to her wrist with a tight-lipped frown.

_Is very frustrating,_ Cosmo sneezed. _And minds that have other influence are like searching through fog, like in green prisoner's mind._

"Hang on," Peter held up a hand. "What do you mean like green prisoner's mind?"

_Cosmo can clearly smell the rotten parts in green prisoner's mind, but scents of the other ones crosses tracks, or steals thoughts away, and Cosmo loses trail._

"You mean like mind control? Like, someone's tampered with her mind?" Peter's chest felt tight and he leaned towards Cosmo, placing his hands on the table. Around him, his teammates had grown very still and were staring intently as well.

_Da._ Cosmo's ears twitched and he tilted his head the other way, his lips drooping into a frown. _Cosmo thought Peter and comrades already know this? Is this not why they have her bound?_

"No, she uh..." Peter cleared his throat. "That's not important. What's important is, can you fix it?"

This could explain so much. Peter thought back to that wild light he had seen in her eyes back on the Milano. Was that what he was seeing? Not Gamora at all, but whoever was manipulating her? Horror at the thought of her being trapped under someone else's control warred with relief that this could mean he had a way to save her after all. She wasn't as lost as he was beginning to fear.

_Cosmo can help if it is what brother Peter would like,_ Cosmo panted. His tail thumped against the seat of the booth.

"Then let's go!" Peter shouted, shoving his plate away and leaping from his seat.

-x-

Peter felt like an anxious child the whole way back, darting ahead of the group only to have to turn back and wait for the rest of them to catch up while he bounced on the balls of his feet. They suffered his restlessness with surprising patience, seeming more amused by his antics than annoyed as the made their way back to the First House where they had left Gamora under the watchful eyes of Cosmo's guard.

They were just one more street away, with Peter once more ahead of the group, pacing at the last corner that blocked their view of the First House and watching his group catch up, when Cosmo suddenly froze in his tracks. His hackles raised and his lips twisted up to reveal his teeth, and Peter could swear that his eyes were glowing a cold white.

Drax, Nebula, and Groot all took a cautious step back, eyeing their guide with newfound suspicions. Cosmo blinked and his eyes were back to their normal copper, bright and alert, and staring straight at Peter.

_Something is wrong! h_ e projected, the panic in his words set Peter's hair on end, and beside the dog his friends tensed as well. As suddenly as he had stopped, Cosmo took off, bounding forward with the rest of his group hard on his heels.

"What happened!?" Nebula demanded as they round the corner and Peter fell into step beside her.

_Cosmo cannot contact guard-friends!_

Peter's chest burned with more than just adrenaline as they sprinted towards the dirty grey building. The door parted as they approached, and Peter's boots squealed against the polished floor as he skid to a stop inside. The door they had left her behind sat wide open, and Peter knew without looking that it would be empty. The guards that they had left to watch over her lay sprawled on the floor, among a scattered deck of cards and the splintered remains of the low wood table.

_Comrades!_ Cosmo's thought boomed through Peter's mind as Cosmo came skidding in behind him, the rest of his group spilling through the doorway a beat later, and the guards at his feet seemed to stir just a bit.

"What happened!?" Nebula bent down to grab one of the guards, the Krylorian from earlier, by the collar and pulled him up to lean against the couch.

"Uuuurgh..." he groaned, head lolling and eyes unfocused.

_Lieutenant T'eska_ , Cosmo's thoughts snapped through the air in a commanding tone that Peter hadn't met yet. _Report!_

"Sssshuh-She..." The Lieutenant paused to lick his lips and managed to pull his head upright. There was a bloody gash across his forehead, and his left eye was puffy and dark. His words came out slurred and wobbly when he finally spoke. "She got th' jump on us, sir. She was... convulsin' n'... there was blood-uh-bloody foam in'r mouth... We whe... went in... t'check n'er n..."

Nebula huffed and released his collar. Without her support, his body slumped to the side and his head lolled against his chest. He was still breathing, but as far as Peter could tell, he had slipped back into unconsciousness.

"Bloody foam?" Peter asked.

"One of the oldest tricks they taught us." Nebula answered, reaching out to remove a set of cuffs from the guard's belt. "Bite your cheek, swish it around a bit and start thrashing on the floor. It looks like you took poison or had a seizure and bit your tongue, so the guards or medical staff rush in and..." She held one palm out as she stood, gesturing towards the wreckage around them.

_We must locate her, immediately._ Cosmo's voice rang around them. His nose was raised up as though he was sniffing for something, ears swiveling like tiny satellites, and eyes glowing that same cold white that Peter had seen earlier.

"It's most likely that she's trying to contact reinforcements." Nebula stated.

_Da._ Cosmo growled low in his throat as the glow faded from his eyes. _She is in Communication Hub. Follow Cosmo._

Cosmo lead them at a run down a series of twisting streets and corridors towards a towering silver building that ran straight up into the ceiling of the cavernous skull that made up Knowhere. Thick cables hung like veins from nearby buildings and the spiderweb of catwalks above, and as they approached, Peter could see bright waves of electricity pulsing through several of them.

At the base of the great tower was a door that resembled the ones on the First House, but this one did not slide open at their approach and the group was forced to slide to a stop.

_The door has been blocked. Something is jammed in its tracks._

"I AM GROOT!" Peter's heart leaped up his throat as he and Cosmo had to scatter out of the way when Groot charged forward. The Flora Colosus shoved his vines into the seams of the door and ripped it off of its tracks entirely. Peter was the first to duck through the doorway, darting in impatiently as Groot tossed the ruined panels aside.

Inside, Gamora was clearly expecting them. Peter barely managed to twist aside in time to not get brained by the heavy metal pole she was wielding as a staff. As Peter stumbled back, Drax shoved past to rush their enemy with both his blades drawn, giving Peter a few precious seconds to regain his balance.

When Peter looked back up, he found,Drax's furious attacks had managed to drive Gamora into the center of the wide, open room, that wrapped like a miniature stadium around them.

A flash of red and blue caught his eye as Nebula darted in from the open doorway, staying low and skirting along circumference of the room. Peter drew his blasters and circled the battling duo in the other direction, waiting for an opening. A glance back towards the entrance revealed that Groot had taken up guard at the open doorway. Good. The last thing they needed was Gamora slipping away and leading them for a chase through the city of Knowhere.

Peter turned back to the fight as Drax swung his twin blades straight down at Gamora's head, forcing her to use both hands to block it with her makeshift staff. Peter saw the opening, but Nebula had caught it faster, and was already rushing in by the time he raised his blasters.

Gamora ducked, throwing Drax off balance and sending him stumbling forward while she darted around him, forcing Nebula to pull up short to avoid striking her own ally.

Peter bit his lip as he struggled to catch a clear shot. Gamora pulled something from her pocket and flung it straight at her sister's head. Nebula dodged, but it quickly became apparent that she wasn't the intended target, as the item sailed across the room and smashed straight into a control panel.

The room lit up in a dazzling display as a surge of energy overloaded the ring of consoles and screens around them. Dangerous arcs of electricity flailed wildly around the open space, forcing everyone to step back and costing Peter the shot he'd been aiming.

"Shit!" he hissed, pulling his jacket up to cover his head when an arc came dangerously close to his face. By the time he pulled his jacket back down, the green assassin had vanished.

**_**ENOUGH!**_** The thought pulsed through the room like a shock wave, and left Peter reeling and grabbing for his skull. The others must have felt it too, because when he managed to look up again, he found Drax and Nebula in similar distress across the room.

A clatter and a scream brought his attention to the doorway, which stood open and unguarded. Groot must have moved back when the electricity took over the room, and Gamora had nearly made it out. Her makeshift staff lay discarded just inside the opening, and Gamora was stumbling backwards across the room, her hands pressed over her ears as she thrashed her head back and forth.

Cosmo prowled into the room after her with his head lowered and his lips peeled up into a hideous snarl. His eyes weren't just glowing now, they were burning. It was like an entire supernova had been shoved inside of him and was trying to leak back out. The electricity dancing around the room died down, but in it's place there was a strange rippling in the air, like one might see over a burning engine or on the horizon of a desert. It seemed to be emanating from Cosmo, who, along with the bright white eyes, was now sporting a fine layer of light that had washed over his entire body and danced like spiderwebs in a windstorm around him.

The pressure in Peter's head faded slightly. Across the room, Nebula and Drax seemed to have shaken off the worst of its effects as well, but Gamora was still screaming and had dropped to her knees with her eyes screwed shut as Cosmo continued to advance straight towards her.

"Wh-wait!" Peter forced his feet to carry him forward, suddenly very concerned for Gamora's safety.

****STAY.**** The blinding eyes turned on him, and Peter jerked back like he'd struck a brick wall.

An invisible force seemed to release his lungs as Cosmo returned his attention to Gamora, who had crawled her way backwards until her back was pressed against one of the consoles that wrapped around the control room. Her hands were fisted tightly in her hair and she was making choking, sobbing noises that set Peter's heart hammering like it might explode.

**_**Cosmo will not kill brother Peter's prisoner.**_** Cosmo stopped just a couple feet in front of the heaving assassin. The shimmering in the air and the fold of light over his body began to fade away, and it felt like a heavy, cold, blanket was lifted from Peter's shoulders. **_**But Cosmo cannot allow prisoner to continue to threaten citizens of Knowhere.**_**

Gamora's choking sobs faded into dry wheezes as Nebula quickly made her way across the room to twist her sister's arms behind her back, and fit the handcuffs she'd taken from the unconscious guard onto her wrists.

"You're too late," Gamora rasped out between shuddering breaths. Dark eyes glowered up at Peter with unconcealed hatred through the curtain of her hair. "I already sent the message."

_Enough,_ Cosmo repeated. _Cosmo will enter your mind now. Will chase away the darkness and see what lies beneath._

There was a flicker of true fear in Gamora's eyes now and she struggled to lean away, but Nebula's hand on her shoulder held her in place.

While Peter watched through wide eyes, the air between the dog and the green assassin began to shimmer. Tendrils of light licked out like flames from Cosmo's body and reached hungrily for Gamora's frozen body.

"Peter." Mesmerized by the light, Peter hadn't even realized he had moved until Nebula's voice brought him back to the present and he found himself standing over the telepathic dog. "What are you doing?"

Peter stared in surprise at his right hand, hovering over the sparkling stream of light that connected Cosmo to Gamora. He didn't remember reaching for it, but couldn't seem to will it to come back.

"It's beautiful," he whispered as he watched his fingers tremble.

"Peter-!?" Nebula's shout may as well have been a million miles away as Peter was flooded with the irresistible urge to touch the softly glowing stream, but the moment his flesh dipped into the light it became a raging river that crashed all around him and swept him off his feet, sending him tumbling into an endless burning abyss. He tried to scream, but the blinding light filled his lungs and burned away his mind until nothing was left.

****End** **

 

**Chapter 16 Preview:** "... _We are in Green prisoner's consciousness. Here is where Cosmo must come to sniff out darkness and chase it away, but is not safe for Peter to be here._

_"Why?" Peter asked, pulling his hands away from his face._

_This place has gateways and tunnels that connect to The Blind Place. Cosmo informed him with a nervous lick of his lips. There are things in The Blind Place, that will want things from brother Peter. Things Peter cannot freely give._

_Peter felt a cold weight settle on his chest. What had he gotten himself into here_..?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took them 11 chapters, but they eventually made it to Knowhere! Cosmo is one of my favorite characters from the cartoon, and I was so happy that he got that little cameo in Vol 1. He was a last second addition here, along with the Black order. I was originally not going to include him, but when I found out about Thanos's Black Order, which contained mind control villains which I could use to fill some plot holes and add a whole new element to the story and world it gave me a great excuse to include him to balance out said psychics. (Which may or may not be a hint at future showdowns!)
> 
> I couldn't find any solid explanation anywhere about how he was supposed to get his powers other than them being connected to the Celestial head of knowhere, so I just made my own. There's more to it than what Cosmo tells here, obviously, and I'm hoping to make Cosmo his own backstory aside, but it may contain some spoilers, so it won't be for a while.
> 
> I was watching Mad Max Fury Road while writing most of this, and realized that Furiosa and Max remind me a lot of Peter and Nebula in this story and it made me laugh quite a bit. So did the bit here with everyone kicking poor Nebula under the table. She's becoming less scary. Peter never would have done that just four chapters ago. He knows she won't kill him now. And I always love paternal Drax. He actually was a dad once, so it's fun to have him slowly start taking over this herd of bumbling children who suck at self-care and, in Peter's case, basic survival instincts. xD
> 
> Anyways, thank you all for your support! I hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> ~OMaM


	16. In the Shadow of Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up in Gamora's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title is from 'Cosmic Love' by Florence + The Machine.
> 
>  
> 
> As usual, I do not own GotG or Marvel!

** **Chapter 16: In the Shadow of your Heart** **

_The Zen Whoberians were a proud warrior race, unrivaled in their galaxies, and feared in many others, but they loved peace. That was the heart of their weakness, a heart which Thanos would use to wipe them from existence its self. All but one, that is. All but his favorite daughter; a weapon he had sharpened and honed to near perfection, only to find it rotten from within by that same damnable weakness that had cost her people their place in the universe._

_Still, when he rewrote his new universe, he found he wasn't ready to give up on her just yet. He had put too much time and effort into her creation, and come too close to his ultimate goal. If he could not root out the core of her weakness and eliminate it, he would have to work with it. That same relentless urge to balance the universe could be used to his own advantage if only she could be persuaded to believe that he was the source of that balance. The truth didn't much concern him. It would be far too late by the time she discovered his true intentions, if she wasn't long dead by then._

_And so he once more marched to war against the planet of Zen Whoberi. This planet and its inhabitants had cost him a fair quarter of the forces he'd brought with him last time, and it cost him another quarter now, but it was an easy price to pay, to have the weak expunged from his ranks._

_He had a new shadow with him as he strolled through the burning city. Last time, he had happened upon Gamora by chance. This time he knew exactly where he was going. The ugly little house drew slowly into view, and he watched with a detached sort of interest as a pair of Zen Whoberians streaked across the abandoned street and shot through the front door. They might have been her parents. To be honest, he didn't much recall what they had looked like._

_His shadow leaned forward to whisper something in his ear and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. One massive hand raised, and the soldiers marching behind him snapped to attention._

_"Alive," he ordered. "I want all of them. Alive."_

_His soldiers rushed forward, a wave of black sweeping into the house to fetch him his prize._

_And his... insurance._

_-x-_

_Brother Peter. You must awaken._

Peter woke with a great gasp, eyes flying open as he greedily sucked in huge lungfuls of air. When the sparkles and black spots began to ebb from his vision, the first thing he made out was the wide empty sky he lay underneath.

Two waning silver moons hung in a dome of deep-sea teal which arced high overhead and faded to a pale tangerine where it met the horizons, made up of distant black mountains that circled them in all directions. It was like he was in the center of a great twilight desert, but Peter couldn't find any stars, save for the ones still fizzling out from behind his eyes. A shuffling noise drew his attention to his left where Cosmo sat, staring down at him with his brows drawn together and his head tilted slightly.

_Brother Peter, why have you followed Cosmo here? h_ e asked, ears swiveling back. _Is not safe._

"I don't..." Peter heaved himself into a sitting position and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He could remember Cosmo connecting with Gamora's mind in the communication center, and feeling the irresistible urge to touch the light streaming between them, and then just... white. Everything was white. And burning. Like someone had tried to jump his heart with the Milano's engine. "Where are we?"

_We are in Green prisoner's consciousness. Here is where Cosmo must come to sniff out darkness and chase it away, but is not safe for Peter to be here._

"Why?" Peter asked, pulling his hands away from his face.

_This place has gateways and tunnels that connect to The Blind Place,_ Cosmo informed him with a nervous lick of his lips. _There are things in The Blind Place, that will want things from brother Peter. Things Peter cannot freely give._

Peter felt a cold weight settle on his chest. What had he gotten himself into here?

_Do not despair._ Cosmo stood and his mouth split into an easy grin, his tongue bouncing slightly as he panted. _Cosmo will keep brother Peter safe, but Peter must promise to stay with Cosmo. Do not wander from Cosmo's path, even a little._

"Y-yeah." Peter pulled himself to his feet as well. "I promise. No wandering."

-x-

Cosmo lead the way through a dark and blackened desert. The dirt was hard, and deep cracks ran like miniature canyons under foot. Peter struggled not to stumble and trip on the deeper chasms which were nearly impossible to make out.

As far as Peter could tell, there wasn't much of anything here. Occasionally, they would pass a scraggly tree, just as charred and lifeless as everything else around them, but Cosmo paid them no mind, marching confidently on in a straight line, his tail flagged out behind him.

"I don't get it." Peter finally broke the silence when he was growing more and more certain that they were just walking in circles after all. "There's nothing here. You said we were in Gamora's mind. So what is all of this... nothing?"

_Is old trick to block out unwanted guests in mind._ Cosmo's thoughts drifted back through the strange stagnant air. _Green Prisoner is thinking of nothing, keeping mind blank, as you say._

"Okay. So what are we doing? How is walking in circles helping?" Peter was pretty sure they'd passed this tree before. He remembered the three twisted branches that looked like fork tines.

_This is only surface of mind. Deeper thoughts are like water under surface of desert, we are looking for good place to dig. Looking for memories. That is where Cosmo smells most rot, and that is where we will find source of others' scents._

Peter wasn't sure he understood what that meant, so he stayed quiet and went back to studying the distant horizon.

Eventually, Cosmo stopped and began sniffing intently at a patch of ground that looked exactly like every other patch they had passed so far.

_Aha!_ His exclamation rang cheerfully through Peter's skull, accentuated by an excited bark. _Green Prisoner is most skilled, indeed, but Cosmo is winner!_

Cosmo set to work, his paws churning the black dirt and sending ashy clumps pelting over Peter's boots.

"Hey! What are you doing?" He demanded, dancing out of the way.

_Cosmo is digging._ Came the less than helpful reply.

As Peter watched, however, his companion began to uncover something other than just more dirt. The sound of nails scrabbling against wood filled the air and a wide, flat, platform started to take shape under the light of the twin silver moons.

When all four corners had been dug free, Cosmo finally stepped back, panting and covered in dust.

"It's a door," Peter supplied lamely. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with a door buried on its side in the middle of a desert.

_Da. Is our way in._

Peter leaped back in surprise as the door began to creak open, swinging upwards to reveal a deep, dark pit underneath.

_Come, brother Peter. Do not stray, even a little,_ Cosmo reminded him before stepping confidently down into the pitch black doorway that immediately swallowed him whole.

Peter's stomach sunk as he watched the end of Cosmo's tail vanish. After taking a deep breath and a count of three Mississippi's to steady himself, Peter hopped into the darkness after him.

Gravity seemed to shift around him, and his feet landed on what would be considered the floor if the doorway were upright. A sharp bang rang out behind him, but by the time Peter opened his eyes and looked, the door was gone.

_Do not concern yourself._ Cosmo's soothing words ran like cool water through Peter's rattled mind and calmed a growing wave of panic. _That doorway is no longer important._

When Peter gathered himself enough to look around, he found they were in a bright, empty hallway. The whole thing seemed to be tipped, slightly, like a corner of the building was slowly falling into a sinkhole. From one direction, Peter thought he could make out some faint noises. Cosmo seemed to hear them too, and struck out down the hallway, his nails clicking off the pale blue tiles.

The hallway ended in a pair of swinging double doors that opened with a small push. Behind those, was what appeared to be the brightly lit viewing room of a hospital. Cozy little chairs sat against one bare wall, directly across from a window that made up most of the wall to Peter's right.

What was in front of the window gave Peter pause. It was Gamora, but much younger, maybe the size of an eight or nine year old child from Earth. Her clothes were simpler, not the leather assassin's gear he had grow to associate with her, and her hair was pulled back into a loose braid that hung down her back, but it was unmistakably her.

Ebony Maw, not looking much different than he had the last time Peter had seen him, stood at her side, one hand draped over her shoulder as they stared through the glass window together.

"I've met this guy," Peter informed Cosmo as they approached. "He's called Ebony Maw, and he's got some sort of creepy sweet-talking skill."

Cosmo padded a quick circle around the pair, who didn't seem to notice either of the interlopers, sniffing at them curiously before sneezing and turning back to Peter.

_Is one of the scents, but is not main source. We are looking for a much more powerful telepath._ Cosmo seemed to lose interest in the pair and trotted off to explore the rest of the room, leaving Peter to watch as Ebony Maw gave Gamora's tiny shoulder a squeeze.

"You must see, Gamora, that this is for the greater good. You are strong and skilled, and your siblings will rely on you to guide and protect them. Every time that you defeat them in battle, they grow stronger. Every time that we can expose their weaknesses, we can improve them, turn them into strengths, before an enemy can exploit them and cause much greater harm, or take them away from us entirely. In this way, it is like you are always there, protecting them no matter where they go. The world will not pull its punches or show them mercy, so you must never do so either."

The young Gamora nodded, straightening up and lifting her chin proudly. Neither one seemed to notice Peter as he stepped in front of them to steal a glance through the window.

Like he suspected, they were in some sort of hospital, and through the glass he could see a half dozen doctors and a handful of assistants of varying races. Everything but their eyes were covered in surgical masks and gear. They were all crowded around some sort of operating table. Whoever they were operating on couldn't have been any larger than Gamora was here, but he couldn't make out much more than a couple flashes of a small body under a white sheet as they shifted in their work. The little splashes of blood on their gloves flashed like warning lights as they move in and out of his sight.

_Do not linger, brother Peter._ When Peter looked up, he found the cosmonaut dog standing in front of a strange mural which had appeared on the wall straight across from where they came in. _This is not the source of the rot. We must keep going._

Peter gladly left the window. The silent masked doctors had landed a little too close to some of his own least favorite memories.

The mural was a rough painting of a dusty orange hill. Tendrils of black smoke were scrawled across the sky and framed the dark silhouettes of two figures, one much smaller than the other, standing at the very top of the knoll. As Peter grew closer, the details seemed to clarify until they were so real he almost wasn't surprised when Cosmo stepped across the threshold, his paws throwing up little puffs of dust where they landed in the orange dirt on the other side.

Peter reached one hand out cautiously, but where a painted wall had been a moment ago, he felt only air. A warm, dry breeze wafted over his skin as he carefully stepped out of the viewing room and into this new memory. Like the hallway and the hospital, this place seemed just a bit off-kilter.

They climbed together up the painted hill, and as they drew closer, the silhouettes at the top became a much older Gamora, closer to the age he knew her as, but with her hair pulled into a braid that now hung over one shoulder. The silhouette beside her was Rocket, dressed in the same strange armored uniform he'd worn on Halfworld. They both had their backs turned, and much like the tiny Gamora and Ebony Maw from the last room, these versions of his friends did nothing to acknowledge his approach.

He paused at the top of the hill to catch his breath and get a look at the pair. A few loose strands of Gamora's hair whipped around in the breeze, but she paid them no mind as she stared down at something at the bottom of the hill. Rocket was staring down as well, a blaster as tall as his own body held lazily across his chest, and the same solid polished silver muzzle was present on his face. Up Close, Peter could see slits built into the front and the sides that seemed to be a breather system of sorts. His hands itch to reach forward and rip the ugly piece of metal from his friend's face, but he reminded himself that this was just a memory, hardly any different than a dream. He couldn't help Rocket here. But he could help Gamora. He needed to focus.

Tearing his eyes from Rocket's muzzle was harder than Peter expected, but he managed to drag his attention away and turn to find what they had been looking at this whole time.

At the foot of the hill on this side was a pile of bodies, all dressed in matching uniforms, though some were burnt and charred and smoke billowed up from craters around them. They all lay with their hands reaching towards where Peter stood, as though they'd died rushing up the hill. Behind them, other soldiers lay, scattered among the rolling landscape. Peter had never had the stomach for gore, and the sight sent a wave of revulsion rolling through his guts.

Something cold and wet touched the back of his hand and Peter leaped with a shout.

_Is only a memory._ Cosmo's eyes stared up at him, steady and calm. _And a tilted one at that._

"Right," Peter said. His heart was hammering in his chest and his hands felt clammy, but he reminded himself again that this wasn't real. Something was wrong with Gamora, and he needed to help Cosmo find it so they could help her. He swallowed and tightened his hands into fists. "Lead on."

The tips of Cosmo's canines flashed white as his mouth opened and his lips pulled back into what Peter thought was supposed to be an encouraging smile. He did his best to return the gesture, but didn't quite feel the bravado he tried to convey. Cosmo seemed satisfied, at least, and began picking his way down the tilted slope and through the bodies below.

"Why is everything so crooked here?" Peter asked, trying to focus on something other than the charred and bloody bodies at his feet as he followed Cosmo through the fallen soldiers.

_The perspective has been shifted. Someone has tampered with these memories. If Cosmo can find source and fix it, other memories will snap back into place as well. Like taking out support, and whole building topples. Cosmo has seen altered minds before, but never one as bad as this_. _Green Prisoner may have hard time readjusting. Cosmo doubts there is anything pleasant buried underneath._

Peter shuddered when his boot landed in a slick patch of bloody mud with a _squelch_. He wasn't sure how they could hold anything worse.

_We are almost there,_ Cosmo assured him from up ahead. _Prisoner is thinking in circles, trying to scramble memories, but does not know what we are after. Cosmo can smell scent of rot very close._

Peter could just smell blood and burning flesh.

The bodies began to thin out, and between the softly rolling hills behind sat several buildings. They were hardly more than shacks compared to what Peter was accustom to, but one had a door that was far too nice set into its clay wall. The sturdy, polished door stood starkly out of place and Cosmo lead them straight up to it, sneezing violently.

_Cosmo think we may have found source._

The doorknob was surprisingly cold despite the heat of the battlefield around them, and turned with ease.

_Be cautious here._ Cosmo's warning was stern as Peter pulled the door open. _Remember. Nothing can harm you as long as you stay with Cosmo. Do not stray._

The pair stepped through the doorway together, and it took Peter a moment to adjust to the inside lighting. The air in here was cool and pleasant and when Peter took a deep breath he could smell the homey aroma of a fireplace and home cooking. They were standing in a living room of sorts. Not the common rooms of a ship or other space fairing vessel, like he had grown so used to; This had the unmistakable feel of a real house on a real planet. The hardwood floor creaked softly under foot and a slightly worn but pleasant looking carpet sat in the center of the room.

There was a window set into one of the walls that let in a soft glow, but through it Peter couldn't make out any details. Underneath the window, the youngest Gamora he'd seen yet sat, cross-legged on the floor. A bright smile lit up her face as she danced a pair of toys across the clear space in front of herself. There was a small giggle as she lifted one of the dolls in the air and had it do a dramatic flip before appearing to kick to other toy, which she released to drop to the ground with a tiny scream that trailed off into a laugh.

A rush of warmth spread over Peter's body as he stared down at the laughing child. He'd never seen the stoic assassin look anything like this happy, and tried to soak in every detail of this moment.

He didn't have long. A shout and a bang from another room made the tiny Gamora jump and stare with wide-eyes as the pounding of feet against hardwood drew rapidly closer. A green-skinned man and woman burst into the room through an open doorway and raced to scoop up the tiny Gamora who met them with a squeal of surprise and buried her face in the man's shirt.

"Gamora," the man gasped, hugging her close and burying his face in her hair.

"You're okay," the woman sobbed, running her hands down Tiny Gamora's hair and touching her face as though to assure herself the child was alright. "You're okay."

Both adults looked young, and Peter guessed these must be Gamora's parents. The woman looked a lot like Gamora would in time, just a touch slighter, and with a crinkle at the edges of her eyes that looked like the start of laughter lines.

Gamora's father, Peter supposed, looked tall and strong. His short, black hair spun in wild whisps across his head, and a poor attempt at a beard accentuated his jawline.

"What's happening!?" Tiny Gamora's voice was high pitched and tight with terror.

Her parents shared a look over her head that nearly stopped Peter's heart.

"Gamora." The woman gently turned her daughter's face to press their foreheads together. "Gamora, we need you to be very brave. Can you do that for us?"

Tiny Gamora sniffled and nodded against her mother's face.

"That's my little warrior," her mother breathed. Her finger tips trembled in her daughter's hair, but her voice was steady and soothing. "We're going to have to leave, okay? Some terrible people have come and we have to go. But you have to promise to be very quiet. No matter what happens, or what you see. Can you promise me?"

"I don't wanna leave!" Gamora gasped. "We can fight them! _You're strong!_ I can be strong too!"

"I know you can." Her father smoothed her hair down and pressed a kiss against the back of her head. "But not this time. We have to go."

Tiny Gamora screwed her face up and looked like she was getting ready to argue. Peter could laugh if he wasn't so terrified, because this was the Gamora he knew. A tiny little pint-sized version who had tears springing in her eyes, but was still ready to take on this unknown threat without any hesitation.

She never did get to make her case. A crash like a whole wall was coming down came from the other room, and a herd of strangers in gaudy white and gold battle gear thundered in.

Gamora's father set her down and spread his arms wide while her mother bundled her behind them both.

"Stop, please." His voice was cold and reasonable, with an edge to it. Of warning or of fear, Peter couldn't quite tell. "There is no reason for this."

"Shut up!" snapped a soldier who appeared to be in charge, judging by his slightly nicer looking armor. He pulled a blaster from underneath his robe-like uniform. "Don't bother begging for your life, you monster."

"Please. Just take me," her father tried again. Gamora's mother reached out to grasp her partner's hand, and from behind them all, Peter could see him give a reassuring squeeze in return. "My family is no threat-"

"Your entire species is a threat! You must be eradicated."

Cosmo let out a low growl beside him when the lead soldier raised his gun and for the briefest moment everything seemed to flicker. Behind the leader, the other soldiers seemed to tremble like an image under water that had been disturbed. The gold and white uniforms morphed into something dark and there seemed to be less of them, but when Peter blinked everything snapped back into place.

"In the name of the Inquisitors, you will be purged," snarled the Inquisitor, raising the blaster to aim over the Zen Whoberi man's shoulder and straight at Gamora's mother.

"No!" Gamora's father shot forward forward while her mother dove to cover their child.

Cosmo's growling grew louder and the world shuddered again. This time the floor seemed to rock under Peter's feet then snapped back into its crooked placement.

The Inquisitors rushed forward all at once, and Peter thought for sure that he was about to witness Gamora's parents being slaughtered in front of her when a second wave of soldiers, dressed in dark tactical gear, flooded into the room and fell upon the attackers. The Inquisitors were no match for the newcomers and quickly fell under their vicious assault. Their pristine white and gold uniforms became fringed in red as they dropped, and their blood soaked into the once well-loved carpet.

Peter opened and closed his hands over where his blasters would have been in the real world. He was practically vibrating in place with frustration, but all he could do was watch from the corner and wait to see what happened next.

When the last Inquisitor crumpled to the floor, the new soldiers moved to help Gamora's parents who had been overwhelmed in the initial wave. Her father had blood dripping from a split lip and staggered a bit as he accepted a hand up to his feet. Her mother, who had shoved Gamora further into the corner towards Peter and Cosmo before turning to grapple with two of the attackers as soon as the battle had started, had a long, shallow cut that ran from behind her ear, across her jawline and down her collar bone where someone had tried and failed to slash her throat, and was hugging her arm to her side where she had taken a hit from one of the blasters to her shoulder. Despite their injuries, both Zen Whoberi's stood proudly to face their saviors. The mother glanced back, signaling silently for Gamora to stay where she was.

"Who are you?" Gamora's father asked, still leaning some of his weight on the soldier who had helped him up and favoring his left leg.

"They are my soldiers," came a new voice, deep and commanding. A moment later, a being that Peter had only ever seen in holographs strolled into the room.

Peter's first thought, in the silence that followed, was that the holographs did him no justice. Up close, even knowing that this was a memory, and the imposing man couldn't see, let alone affect him in any way, Peter had to struggle not to take a step back. The growling next to him continued, and when Peter glanced down he found Cosmo's hackles sticking out on end and a sheen of light flickering in his eyes.

_The stench is growing stronger._ The dog's black nose flared as he waved it through the air. _We have almost found the source._

"I am Thanos." Peter turned back to see Thanos standing proudly in the center of the room. His soldiers stepped back a respectful distance, as much as they could in the now pretty cramped living room. Suddenly, Peter understood why everyone called him the Mad Titan. He was huge. It wasn't just the fact that he towered a good foot or so over even his tallest soldiers, or the fact that he looked like he could give Drax a piggy back ride without so much as breaking a sweat. It was something in the way he stood above the gore and violence, smug and untouchable.

"Word came my way of what the Inquisitors had planned. I had come to stop them, and rescue those who I could." His eyes swept over the small crowd gathered around him. "I am sorry I was so late."

Even his apology sounded smug to Peter, but Gamora's parents relaxed under his gaze.

"Thank you-" Gamora's father stepped forward, but the growling beside him grew louder again and the world flickered and rippled for a third time.

The floor rolled under Peter's feet harder than before, and the Inquisitors on the floor flickered in and out of existence entirely. Gamora's father wasn't leaning on a soldier anymore, he was being held back by one, as he screamed and lunged at the Titan that was still standing, unchanged in the middle of it all. Her mother was held down on her knees now, the soldier that had been placing a hand gently on her shoulder last time Peter had looked had it fisted in her hair now, while another one pinned her arms behind her back.

Just as quickly as it had changed, everything snapped back to how it was a moment ago. Gamora's parents were calm and thankful, as the soldiers aided them. The slanted room was quiet again, and Peter wondered if memories could give him whiplash as he struggled to hold down the contents of his stomach.

_"_ What is that!?" Peter gasped out.

_Peter is seeing glimpses of true memory._ Cosmo's growling did not stop. _Someone has buried it under this false memory. Cosmo is trying to dig old one free, but whoever made it is very talented. Keeps correcting its self. Cosmo must find source._

_THERE!_

A new person, someone Peter had never seen before melted in from the doorway. She was tall. Not as tall as Thanos, but at least as big as the largest soldiers, and would probably be taller than Gamora's dad if they stood back to back. Most of her body was obscured behind a glimmering white cloak, but from underneath the hood he could see her sunken cheeks and sharp chin. Her skin was blue, and appeared almost metallic. A pair of black tiger stripes ran across her cheeks from underneath her hood almost like whiskers, but Peter couldn't see anything above that.

_That is the source. That is the telepath who has warped this mind._

"Please." Thanos's voice rang out from the center of the room as the newcomer glided silently to his side. "Come with us. We will do our best to keep you and your family safe."

As he spoke, the Titan's face split into a broad toothy smile that sent Peter's skin crawling. A massive purple palm stretched out towards where Tiny Gamora still stood silently by Peter's feet.

Without thinking, Peter reached his own hand out towards the child, intending to draw her away from the ominous scene before them, but his hand passed uselessly through her shoulder.

"Gamora." Gamora's parents turned to smile encouragingly at her.

The growling grew louder again, and the entire room started to rock and shudder, harder than ever.

"GAMORA RUN!" They were screaming now, thrashing under the holds that the soldiers had them under, and crying for their child.

The telepath on the far side of the room remained unchanged as the room rocked and wavered, and from the shadow of her hood a pale yellow glow began to creep out.

There was another shudder, and her parents were smiling again.

_Be steady, brother Peter. Telepath's influence is very powerful. Removing it will not be easy._

"Gamora, honey, it's okay. They're here to help us."

Peter's eyes were locked hopelessly forward, and a bright cold light was burning up from Cosmo at his side and the pressure in the air was increasing, making it even harder for Peter to focus on the already senseless scene.

"GAMORA!"

"Everything's okay."

"RUN!"

"Just take his hand."

"NO!"

Between the two telepaths, everything was shuddering and flickering like an old television trying to run two channels at once, until nothing made any sense at all. The floor shifted and rolled so hard that Peter could barely stay on his feet and a pressure was building in the air that flooded his senses and further distorted the screams and Cosmo's growing snarls.

When the pressure became too much and he thought his skull might split open, Peter screwed his eyes shut and covered his ears, trying to block out the cacophony around him. Another violent jerk sent him tripping over his own feet and stumbling backwards. His back collided with the door they had entered from and he tumbled out into the warm, dry, dirt of the battlefield.

Out here he could breath again. He sucked in air like a dying fish and struggled his way upright. The door behind him rattled and slammed like a screen door in a windstorm, and through the hammering of his own heartbeats he could feel a tremor growing in the ground even out here.

"Cosmo-" he started, but an explosion sounded behind him and the doorway blew open in a shower of splinters that sent him back to his knees. When Peter looked back, the hole where the door had been was filled with the deepest black he had ever seen, and with a growing horror he watched as little spiderweb cracks formed in the clay wall around it. As the tendrils spread, the broken bits seemed to flake away and get pulled back into the shadowy depth of the doorway, and the blackness grew, consuming the building and pieces of the dry orange ground.

The cracks grew uncomfortably close to his feet and Peter scrambled backwards. He had no clue what would happen if they touched them, and he had no intention of finding out the hard way. Pulling himself to his feet, he sprinted back the way they'd come.

As he pelted across the battlefield, weaving as carefully as he could through the bodies, a shudder waved through the ground out here and he stumbled. His boot came down in a puddle of blood-soaked mud and he landed hard on top of a pile of bodies.

"Agh!" he yelped, flinging himself off the corpses, but when he pulled away something stuck to him, clinging to his hands like spiderwebs and the soldier's uniforms seemed to peel apart like soggy paper, revealing a tangle of bloody limbs underneath that at first Peter couldn't make any sense of. As he crawled backward, wiping desperately at the sticky feeling still clinging to his hands, the image in front of him started to peel and crack. It was like someone had thrown an old tarp out which had rotten in the sun and was now flaking away, starting at the hole he had torn where his hands had landed. Underneath was more corpses, but these weren't soldiers at all.

Where Peter had landed, the false image had crumbled away to reveal several alien women, one had a child still clutched in her arms where she had fallen, trying to shield them with her body. Peter could definitely taste his lunch coming back up now, and rolled over to dry-heave uselessly. Tears were pricking at the corner of his eyes as he struggled to suck in enough air between heaves. This was so wrong. So. So. Wrong.

The ground shuddered again and rocked. Snapping upright and then crooked like a morbid teeter totter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ground falling away into the blackness and was reminded why he had been fleeing. His time spent battling his stomach had cost him precious seconds, and the cracks had nearly caught up to him.

Hauling himself to his feet, Peter fled again the way he had come. The bodies around him continued to flake apart, and as he ran he realized with dawning horror that these were all civilians. Parents with children, elderly, and crippled all lay sprawled in pools of blood between the burning craters, some of them had left claw marks in the dirt and their lifeless faces were twisted in looks of empty terror.

They had all died fleeing. Every last one of them had fallen running away from the hill, not rushing up it valiantly like they had been when Peter and Cosmo had passed earlier. Some had precious items strewn about them, and others still clasped hands with their loved ones. This hadn't been a battle, not even by a long shot, it was a slaughter. Locking his eyes straight ahead, Peter tried to block out the details of the bodies he passed.

Peter made it to the hill that Gamora and Rocket still stood atop, unchanged, and practically flew over it, desperate to get away from the sea of senseless death and destruction around him. On the other side of the hill was the entrance to the first memory, and Peter's heart soared with relief.

The world rocked again as he crested the hill, and he was sent tumbling head over heels down the slope. The world was even again when Peter pulled himself back to his feet, and as he pounded through the opening into the cooler air of the hospital, he screwed his eyes shut and covered his ears with his hands, because he didn't want to know. Oh god, he _did not want to know_ what this memory really looked like. Even through his hands, he could hear someone screaming in agony and it only spurred him on faster, wanting nothing more than to wake up and get back to the real world.

He burst through the swinging doors on the far side with his eyes still shut and raced down the empty hallway. The screams died out behind him until all he could hear was his own frantic pulse and ragged breathing as his lungs struggled to suck in enough air to keep up his wild pace.

Peter lost track of how far he had run. Certainly, he had long passed the length of any normal hallway, and he would have kept going for a long way still, if a chilly voice hadn't boomed out just in front of him.

"You're going the wrong way."

Peter's eyes flew open as he slid to a jarring stop. His legs trembled and he had to hunch over to lean his hands on his knees as he stared in open horror at the body in front of him.

Ego's smug face stared back. The very unwelcome sight was no more than twenty feet away and standing squarely on... nothing. His body was suspended in empty space. Behind him was a backdrop of colorful swirling galaxies that were beginning to look familiar from all the times they'd filled his dreams and visions. Feeling his heart drop like a stone, Peter looked down to find he was standing on a floating patch of land, like a miniaturized asteroid, suspended in place, and leaving him nowhere to go and no way to flee his father. He had no clue how he had gotten here. Just moments ago he could swear his feet had been drumming on solid ground.

"It's not safe out here, Peter." The voice brought him back to his immediate predicament. "You're not strong enough."

"Not strong enough for what?" Peter panted, trying to figure a way out of this and coming up with a whole lot of nothing. Beyond his little asteroid, there was nothing but stars and galaxies in all directions. "Where are we?"

"That's not important yet," Ego told him with a small tilt of his head and a smile that set Peter's skin itching. "Why do you keep running from me, _boyo_? I just want to help you."

The hair on the back of Peter's neck stood up, and if he could have taken a step back he would. While it was true that Peter hadn't spent a lot of time on Ego's planet, and to be honest, he put a lot of effort into not thinking about it, he felt pretty certain that Ego had never once used the term 'boyo.'

Was this some sort of sick joke? The megalomaniac's version of trying to reconnect with Peter by mimicking the man who had actually raised him? Who he had taken away from Peter just like he had taken away Peter's mother. How many of his loved ones did Peter have to watch die before Ego got the hint and left him in peace?

Or was this even Ego at all? Cosmo's earlier warning weighed heavily on Peter's mind. He had broken his promise. He had wandered.

"Who are you?" Peter demanded.

"Come now, Peter. Surely, you haven't forgotten me already?" Ego's mouth split into a wide grin, and Peter shuddered in revolt as his lips peel back to reveal sharpened teeth and bits of gleaming metal.

In the distance behind him, the sound of a dog barking drifted through the nothingness, and the twisted version of Ego with Yondu's teeth paused to stare at something over Peter's shoulder.

"You're being called. You should go back, while you still can."

Peter looked behind himself to see what maybe-but-maybe-not Ego was indicating, and found that some sort of land mass was forming in the distance, like someone had started painting a field onto a canvas that already held the night sky.

"Stop running from me, Peter. I only want to help you."

A pathway began to materialize between his tiny floating rock and the field rippling like a cliff face over the ocean of stars.

"Yeah. I think I've heard that line before," Peter grumbled under his breath, taking off like an Orlani fleeing a sinking ship as soon as the pathway was within leaping distance.

No answer followed, and when Peter risked a glance over his shoulder he found that Ego's body had vanished completely, along with the swirling stars and galaxies, and now the pathway behind him led to nothing but and endless black void.

****End** **

 

 

**Chapter 17 Preview:** "... _She's not wrong." Nebula said, a sour look on her face like she would rather have her teeth drilled out than agree with her sister. "If the message was received, then my father will waste no time sending someone to retrieve us."_

" _How long do you think we have?" Peter asked_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not quite how I pictured, and I was almost too nervous to post it, but, I know if I don't the story will never move forward and that seems even worse.
> 
> It's not supposed to answer every question, so don't worry if you still have some. She's not meant to be redeemed, or even excused, yet, either. It's just supposed to be the first turning point of her arc. To basically rip her apart so she can be given the chance to rebuild. We'll see what she does with that chance. Even in the canon verse, they make it clear that Gamora has done some downright unspeakable things and she struggles with the weight of them, but she still did them. And while in this version she may have made excuses to herself over doing things for the greater good, she still knew that she had murdered countless people. Ebony just... helped her gloss over some of the darker details to make sure she didn't question things too much, and stayed under control. The extent to which things were altered, and some clarity about what really happened in those memories, will be discussed in-text at a later date. Peter's a nosey little monster. That's what makes him such a fun main character.
> 
> If anyone is unclear. Yes. There are two psychics, or more accurately, one powerful telepathic who altered her memories(Supergiant), and one very convincing soothsayer to maintain the lie(Ebony Maw). Also something that will be addressed in-text.
> 
> Rocket makes another appearance, sort of. Kind of a little wave to his history in this verse.


	17. Time is Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up to a teammate struggling to adjust to the truth, and an impending attack, but there might be a way to spin things in their favor after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is "Time is Dancing" by Ben Howard. It's a very soothing and beautiful song.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left reviews on the last chapter! I was so scared to post it and all the positive responses I got were so inspiring.
> 
> Guardians of the Galaxy all belongs to Marvel. I am just borrowing them for entertainment.

** **Chapter 17: Time is Dancing** **

Peter followed the barking down the narrow pathway and onto solid ground, jogging through dry scraggly grass which gave way to waist high wheat as the stars faded into blue sky and the sound led him to a rickety, but familiar looking, barn rising out of the golden field. As the barking drew closer, Cosmo came padding around the corner of his grandfather's old barn, looking out of place in his astronaut gear.

_Brother Peter!_ Cosmo's thoughts echoed the relief Peter felt already flooding through his own mind as the cosmonaut bounced around him, sniffing at Peter's hands and wagging his tail furiously. _Cosmo was so worried when brother Peter vanished!_

"You and me both, bud." Peter was near giddy with relief. "Sorry, I think I got a little lost. Where are we now?"

_We are in Peter's mind, now, but should return to the real world. Green prisoner will be waking up, and may not like what she remembers._

"Okay. I am all for waking up. So how do I do that?"

_Relax._ Cosmo's eyes started to shimmer a soft white as he finally settled down. _Is a simple matter to wake someone from own mind._

His eyes grew brighter and Peter felt like he was being swallowed whole, but this light was soft and gentle, not the burning torrent that had ripped him into Gamora's mind, or the frozen stars that had burned his mind away in his dream, and Peter let it sweep him up without a fight.

-x-

Peter blinked his eyes open and tried to make sense of where he was. At first he thought he had fallen asleep working on the Milano's engines again, and was laying on a pile of wires, staring down a long tube, but as his senses and his memories returned he realized that he was looking upwards, and what he was seeing was the walls of the communication tower running towards the top of Knowhere until they faded into shadows.

"He's waking up," Someone said. He thought it might be Drax, but his head was pounding and everything kind of sounded like it was coming from under water.

"I am Groot?" Well, that explained the wires he was laying on. Not wires at all, but branches. He was slumped in Groot's arms like a sleeping child. Trying to ignore the rising heat on his cheeks, he worked his way free of the collosus's hold, and was pleasantly surprised to find that his limbs all felt fine. The burning and exhaustion from his trek through Gamora's mind and... wherever else he had been, were gone.

As his head cleared, he found Drax standing to his side, looking ready to catch him if he should suddenly pitch forward. In front of him, Cosmo was panting and looking a bit tired as he stared at Gamora, who hadn't seemed to have moved since the last time Peter had seen her, although, he had no clue how long ago that was. Nebula was watching him carefully from where she stood behind her sister, one hand still holding onto Gamora's shoulder.

"So..." Peter ventured, when the only sounds in the room were Cosmo's panting and the creaking of Groot's branches. "Did it work?"

All eyes turned to Gamora, who was kneeling with her hands bound behind her back and her head bowed. Her hair made a curtain that shielded her face, but as Peter stared, he noticed little stains on the concrete floor beneath her.

Was she... crying?

As he watched in shocked silence, another drop splatted next to the first few.

He had never seen Gamora cry before. Not when she had been injured, or when they had witnessed terrible things together, or even when he and all the others had nearly died on Ego's planet. The fluttering of his heart and clammy hands were back, but he didn't know what he could possibly do to help.

If this was his Gamora, he would risk a hug, trusting her to curb her assassin's instincts enough to not kill him. And maybe she would tolerate, more than actually _appreciate_ , the action, but she would understand the intentions behind it. This wasn't his Gamora, as the past week had made abundantly clear, so he just stared down at her, clenching and unclenching his hands helplessly. He felt as useless as he had been back in her memories, watching Thanos subdue her parents and reach out to kidnap her and begin the hell that was her training as his favorite daughter. He hated this feeling.

A shudder visibly ran up her body and at first he thought she might break out into sobs, but instead she bent even further over and retched. A puddle of bile was all that came up.

Nebula wrinkled her nose at the action, and turned her face away.

_Is not surprising,_ Cosmo offered, still staring at Gamora's shaded face, his tail drooped almost sadly behind him. _Nearly all of Green Woman's mind was shifted or rewritten. It will be a tough adjustment._

"Is she still a threat?" Drax asked. His voice was unusually hushed, and Peter felt a small wave of gratitude that he wasn't using this opportunity to further harass the assassin.

_Cosmo cannot say for sure. Entire world has changed, so decisions must be made, but these take time. Cosmo will not make them for her. For now, Cosmo not sense any ill intent. It may still be best, for her safety as well, to keep a close eye._

"That sounds like a good idea," Peter added. He could just picture Gamora running off on her own and never finding her again. "Come on, let's get her to the ship."

"I sent the message." Gamora's voice was cold and clear, even as she refused to move from her slumped position.

"What?" Peter asked. Nebula tensed behind her, hand tightening on her sister's shoulder as though afraid she might try to put up a fight at any moment.

"I already sent the message," Gamora repeated. Slowly, she rocked back and lifted her head just enough to meet Peter's eyes. Her eyes still had a glossy sheen, but her face was stony, and would have been completely unreadable if Peter hadn't seen this look before. It was the same one she had when someone accused her of some past crime she'd committed under Thanos's rule; destroying their family, or helping Thanos with some other unforgivable atrocity. She felt guilty about something, but would never admit it, even to herself. "Than-... Someone will be here to collect me, and to lay waste to this place until they find the Star-lord, and the Infinity Stone as well."

"Gamora-" Peter started, but she forged on, like he hadn't even spoken.

"This whole city is doomed. You should run. Evacuate who you can, and run." With that said, her eyes lowered to the floor and she fell back into her defeated silence.

"She's not wrong," Nebula said, a sour look on her face like she would rather have her teeth drilled out than agree with her sister. "If the message was received, then my father will waste no time sending someone to retrieve us."

"How long do you think we have?" Peter asked. Maybe they could get back to the Milano and send a new message, lead the chase away from Knowhere and its innocent(ish) citizens.

"That depends on where the nearest reinforcements are right now. Not long, in any case."

Peter bit his lip as he tried to come up with something. He couldn't let all these people die for something they had nothing to do with.

"You have to let me go."

"What?" Peter asked, turning back to stare at Gamora.

"Thanos has my parents. I can't leave. Not until I know they're safe. You have to let me go."

"No. That's not happening. I'm sorry Gamora, but-"

"I'll tell them you're long gone. That I escaped and lost you, and send them on a useless chase."

"And why would we trust you, after you already betrayed us once?" Drax growled, crossing his arms and staring down at her.

"Because..." Gamora trailed off for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision and looked up again to fix Peter with a piercing stare. "I can help you get your friend back."

"Wait, do you mean-?"

"Experiment 89P13. You'll never find him without me. Let me go, and I can have him assigned to me and assure his return- _after_ I retrieve my parents."

"I'm sorry Gamora, but we can't just let you go back to Thanos. What if he finds out what we did and puts you back under his mind control. Or worse." If Thanos did undo everything they had done here, they'd only be further away than ever from getting the whole team back. They'd have to find another way.

Gamora's lips turned down in a tight frown. She seemed to be gathering herself together already, and her patience was beginning to wear thin.

"No." Nebula spoke up from behind her sister, a thoughtful look on her face. "We can't let her go back... but that does give me an idea."

All eyes turned to the blue assassin now, as she seemed to be mulling something over very carefully.

"Dog- Cosmo." She started, turning her sharp calculating gaze on the telepath. "Is there any way for Thanos or his people to already know that we've removed the influence from my sister's mind?"

_No. Is not likely,_ He answered slowly, returning her gaze with a thoughtful look of his own. _Would have to interact with her directly and touch her mind to tell._

"Good." Nebula nodded, releasing Gamoa's shoulder to cross her arms and fall back into thought.

"Well?" Peter asked impatiently, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "What are you thinking?"

"We send a new message," she answered. "We arrange a trade. As long as Thanos believes we have Gamora against her will, he has no reason to... do anything to his hostages. So we make him an offer. Gamora for the uplift. It might be our only shot at drawing him out."

"And do you really think we can trust him to honor that trade? To hand over the rodent?" Drax asked, doubtfully.

"No. Definitely not. Thanos doesn't just give away his weapons, but if he thinks he can lure the Star-lord and Infinity stone out, he'll have no problem using him as bait. He will undoubtedly have some plan in motion to ensure he walks away from the trade with everything in his hands, though."

"So what good does that do us?” Peter asked. “We show up and... what? Just let him double cross us and capture us?"

"Not if _we_ double cross _him_ as well. I doubt Thanos will come, himself. He'll likely send Korath or Ronan in his stead. If we can arrange an ambush of our own, we can capture the uplift and appear to still be holding Gamora as a prisoner."

"That... that actually could work." Peter glanced around to see what the others thought. Drax was nodding his head slightly, and Groot gave Peter a tiny encouraging smile as his gaze passed over the colossus. Even Cosmo seemed to have perked up, and there was a small wag to his tail.

_Da. Cosmo think this is a good idea._

"There's just one big problem," she continued. "We'll need a lot more firepower than we have. Just us won't be nearly enough power to make it out alive, let alone manage to keep both of the supposed 'prisoners.'"

_Is not much_... Cosmo started tenatively, _b_ _ut Cosmo can offer some of Knowhere's guards, and can come as well. Cosmo can, as you say, keep eyes open for other telepaths, and can shield Green Prisoner's mind if needed._

"Wow." Peter blinked down at their newest ally. "Thanks bud! That would be a big help."

"It's a start." Nebula nodded. "But we'll need more than that."

"And we'll get it," Peter said with a lot more confidence than he felt. "But we should probably send that message right away. I don't want to wait until they already get here."

"Alright." Nebula slipped her blade from its holster and stepped in front of her sister. "Chin up," she ordered. "This has to look good."

-x-

The communication hub was fried after the stunt Gamora had pulled with the fuse box, but luckily Cosmo had a small backup communication system in the security office and they were able to send out a hail with codes Gamora provided. While they waited for the signal to be picked up, they arranged themselves in front of the screens.

Gamora stood in the center, her hands still bound and a dark angry bruise blooming across the side of her face where Nebula had struck her with the hilt of her dagger. Peter and Drax stood on either side of her. One of Drax's curved blades was held tightly against her throat, and Peter had activated his mask. 'For effect' he had informed Nebula, who just rolled her eyes and left to stand off-screen with Cosmo.

"Hello. This is Commander Korath." The small communication screen flickered to life and Korath's upper body winked into existence. "State your business."

"Hey Korath," Peter greeted, waving one blaster. "Remember me?"

"Star-lord," Korath sneered, brows drawing together in obvious distaste.

"That's what they call me," Peter answered cheerfully. "And _I'm_ calling _you_ because I have an offer to make."

"You are hardly in a position to be making demands," Korath laughed. "Thanos' army is marching on your location as we speak."

"Yeah, see, about that... I just don't see any reason to stick around here and wait for you. We already caught Gamora, and we're taking her with us. So you can lay this whole place to rubble for all it matters, but you won't find us."

Korath's eyes narrowed even further on the screen. To be honest, none of them had had any clue how far out reinforcements actually were, but by the look on Korath's face, they were still too far out to catch them if they left now.

"I thought so," Peter grinned, doing his best Yondu impression, but the effect was largely lost to the mask. "Now about this proposition of mine. You have something I want; Experiment 89P13. And I have something Thanos wants; his favorite child. The way I see it, there's an easy way to resolve this..."

"State your terms," Korath sneered, looking like he wished desperately he could reach through the screen and strangle someone.

"A prisoner exchange. Plain and simple. Gamora for 89P13. One cycle from now, exactly, on Traxxon III. No tricks. I'm not even going to bother landing if I don't see the uplift."

"Agreed," the commander spat.

"Great! See you then, Korath. And remember. _No tricks_." Peter gave a final lazy salute with his blaster and disconnected the call.

"He didn't even try to argue your terms," Gamora stated as Drax lowered his blade and Peter deactivated his mask. "He has a plan, already."

"Yeah, I figured," Peter replied. "But that's fine. Because so do we. Now let's get out of here before they decide to show up anyways and find us still here."

-x-

As they drew into sight of the Milano, Peter was surprise to see several familiar faces gathered around it.

"'Bout time you showed up," Yondu snapped, standing under the Milano's hull with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "I was startin' to think I'd have to hunt you down an' drag you back by the ears."

"Hey Yondu. Nice to see you, too," Peter greeted as his group drew to a stop.

Kraglin, Horuz, and Oblo drew close and gathered behind their captain. Kraglin seemed to perk up when he caught sight of Nebula, and offered her a tiny wave. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter was surprised to see her actually return the gesture. It was half-hearted at best, she didn't even bother uncrossing her arms, just sort of flicked out a few fingers before pointedly turning her attention to Yondu instead, but Peter still had to swallow down a smile at the interaction.

"What are you doing here?" Peter tried to keep his voice steady and free of the urgency he felt to leave this place as quickly as he could.

"We was stoppin' off for some RnR and to make a few... purchases, and just happened to see my old ship just sittin' out here."

"It's my ship, Yondu," Peter reminded him.

"Which you stole from me." Yondu reached up to rap his knuckles against the hull he was standing under for emphasis. "Relax. I ain't mad. Dare say I was downright proud, you finally actin' like a real Ravager n' all, but this brings me to the real order of business here."

There was a sharp whistle and Yondu's hand reached out to grab him by the shoulder, yanking him forward as his other fist connected hard with Peter's stomach. Peter gasped and hunched over. The breath was knocked out of him and for a moment, Yondu's hand still holding him like a scruffed cat was the only thing keeping him from buckling to his knees.

"I'll let the ship pass, and bygones be bygones, but yer startin' to make this whole stealin' from me and sneakin' away into a habit, and it gets a lot less cute every time." Yondu's voice was rough as he growled into Peter's ear.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see his companions standing tensely behind him. Drax had grabbed Gamora's arm in one hand, as though afraid she might still take this opportunity to flee, and held a blade in his free hand, and Groot was not so subtly gathering strength in his limbs. Nebula had stepped forward with her knife drawn, but an arrow pointed squarely at her heart was holding her at bay for now. Peter didn't have the oxygen required to form words, so he just waved his hand as best he could to signal for them to relax.

After a tense moment, Yondu released him and stepped back to call his arrow back to its holster.

"Well," he laughed, straightening his own duster out with a snap. "Now that we got that all cleared up, my boys and I can get back to our business."

Yondu turned to leave, Oblo and Horuz quick on his heels, while Peter tried to catch his breath.

"Don' mind the cap'." Kraglin had sidled up next to Peter. "He was jus' worried, you vanishing all'a sudden like that so soon after the green assassin was released. Glad ta see you got y'r friend back. I think it's nice, you havin' y'r own crew."

"Oh yeah," Peter coughed out, finally straightening up. "We're one big happy family, alright."

"Only two of us are related," Drax contradicted him. "And I don't believe any of us are terribly pleased right now."

"Thanks Drax," Peter sighed.

"A'right. Well it was good t'see you, but we really did have some business to take care of, so see ya 'round." Kraglin turned to follow after his captain when an idea struck Peter.

"Wait! Yondu!" Peter jogged forward to catch up with the Ravagers. "Yondu, I need a favor."

The Ravagers stopped, and Peter didn't miss the flat look Horuz sent him. This wasn't going to be an easy favor to gain. Especially since Peter didn't really have anything to offer. But damnit, he needed the firepower.

"A favor?" Yondu repeated with a tilt of his head. "Ain't I done you enough favors, boy? You got one hellofa pair to be askin' for anything else right now."

"Look, I'm not asking you to do it for free, but I've got a very important deal going down tomorrow and I could really use all the firepower I can get."

"And what do you have to offer me this time?" Yondu asked.

"Well... I don't really have anything right now-"

Yondu snorted and turned to leave.

"-But! Hear me out!"

"I think I heard all I needed to know," Yondu called over his shoulder. Horuz and Oblo snickered as they made to follow once more.

_Perhaps Cosmo can offer something._ A bark sounded from the edge of the docks, and everyone turned to watch the dog approach at a trot, several guards in tow.

"Ah, hello there, dog," Yondu greeted. "And what can I do for the Chief of Security today?"

_Yondu can hear out brother Peter's request, and consider Cosmo's offer._ Cosmo paused to sit as he pulled close and eyed both the ravagers and Peter. _Cosmo has... vested interest in outcome of Peter's meeting._

"Cosmo!" Peter exclaimed, a wave of gratitude bubbling up. "Thanks man."

_Is no problem. But Peter and friends should leave quickly. Cosmo will work out deal with Ravagers, and hail Peter later with details._

"Okay. You're right." The conversation with Yondu had already cost them several minutes that they could have spent putting distance between themselves and Knowhere. He turned back to see his friends all standing right where he had left them, staring expectantly. "He's right guys, lets get on the ship and head out."

They nodded, and Drax guided Gamora with a light push in front of himself as they all moved up the loading ramp. Peter jogged up last, pausing to give Yondu and Cosmo one last look. Yondu returned his look with narrowed, thoughtful eyes.

-x-

Peter left the others to watch over Gamora while he made a straight line for the pilot's chair. A small spark of joy burst in his chest as he slid into his seat and started the engines. Man he missed driving. It was nice having both hands again.

Nebula slipped into the seat next to him, pulling the navigation system online and opening a series of maps containing nearby jump points. She sorted through a few before finding one she seemed satisfied with and flicked it over to his screen.

"Star System K6-C?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow at the jump point that would lead them to the literal middle of nowhere.

"It'll get us out of here without taking us too far away from our meet point on Traxxon III." That was good enough for him, so he strapped in and guided them out of the docks towards the point indicated on his nav screen.

"So," she said, shutting off the screens around her and leaning back in her seat to throw her legs up on the deactivated controls. He was sucking in a sharp breath to give her a heated piece of his mind over that when her next words stopped all thoughts in their tracks. "You're a Celestial."

"Whut?" Was all that came out after a long pause. "How did you..."

"I've had my suspicions for a while. Our time here, and your reaction just now, confirmed them," she offered him a smirk which he was surprised to find calmed him a little. “Something 'not quite mortal' that can interact with the Stone of Power without being consumed, and enter someone's mind through the another telepath's connection, a power granted to him from another Celestial, doesn't leave a lot of options.”

"Yeah. I'm half-Celestial, actually. On my father's side. I only found out pretty recently myself. You know I spent my whole life dreaming of meeting him and how cool he would be. Turns out he was a total scumbag, who wound up killing both the people who raised me."

"A scumbag of a father, huh? I wouldn't know anything about that."

Peter couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "I don't believe it! Wearing ravager red, making deadbeat dad jokes... Next thing you know you'll be busting out dance moves in a red duster and going by Star-lord. Or Star-lord-ess... Star-Queen... Star-Empress-?"

"No thanks." Nebula interrupted his ramblings, smiling peacefully out the windshield. "Nebula is fine."

"Okay, okay, but think about it, because I think I might be onto something here. We can all come up with matching nicknames. It'd be really cool."

"I'll think about it," She promised absently, in the same way that his mother used to say that when they both knew the answer was no, but she didn't want to continue to chase the conversation in circles.

"As long as we're being honest here, do you mind if I ask you something I've been wondering for a while?"

"It's never stopped you before," she said with a sideways glance. Her smile seemed to waver just a bit.

"You're the only one that actually believes me, about the other timeline. Gamora was just faking it to manipulate me, Drax thinks I'm completely nuts but as long as he gets his revenge he's fine with that, and Groot's just happy to be out of Halfworld. So why do you believe me?"

Nebula seemed almost relieved by his question, and settled into her seat a little more as the gears visibly turned in her head.

"How much do you actually know about Thanos?" she asked.

"Um, not much, I guess," He started, not sure where she was going with this, but willing to follow her train of thought for now. "Just some stuff from the NOVA Corps records and the usual gossip."

"Hm," she hummed, returning her attention to the windshield as the jump point came into view. "What do you know about Titans, then?"

"Titans? I thought Titan was just what they called him because he was so big and... angry."

The smile was tugging at her lips again, and, for once, she didn't seem to be fighting it very hard.

"No, the Titans were an ancient and powerful race, not too unlike the Celestials. Thanos is the very last of his kind."

"What happened to them?" Peter asked, suddenly feeling an odd, and very unwelcome, twinge of empathy for the warlord.

"Thanos killed them. He annihilated his entire species." Any twinge of empathy was immediately replaced with revulsion.

"So... what does this have to do with you believing me?"

"When I was young, I spent a great deal of my time in study. It was quickly made clear to me that I could never defeat Gamora in a contest of strength, so I buried myself in tomes and knowledge in search of other ways to gain the upper hand. On one of the planets where we were sent for training, I broke into a forbidden section of my father's personal library. I had though at the time it was a test. Such things often were. In that section, I found an ancient book on Titans. I was young and foolish, and hoped that I could find something in there to help me win his favor..."

"And?" Peter pressed when she seemed to get lost in her reminiscing.

"It turned out to be a book of children's stories and legends. At the time, I could not understand why Thanos would keep such a sentimental thing, when he had burned nearly everything else the Titans had left behind. I was caught, and punished, and for years I put it from my mind."

"Wait, I thought you said it was a test? Why would they punish you for trying?"

"Not for trying," Nebula corrected him. "For being discovered. What use is a spy who gets caught? The punishment was my incentive to be more careful next time."

"Oh."

"But when you appeared, I realized it wasn't a story book after all. It was an instruction manual, filled with ancient rituals and powers that were unique to their race. One of the pages I remember seeing was about time streams, and a Titan who possessed the ability to step outside of them."

"Wait," Peter stopped her as a cold chill ran down his spine. "Are you saying that Thanos can just... warp time... at will? Like whenever he wants?"

"More or less," she confirmed. "It was before my mind had been enhanced, and my memories from that time can be a bit... muddled, but from what I can recall, it was a power that certain Titans possessed. It took a great deal of energy, and changing time has some inherent... risks involved, but..."

"But what you're saying is... Even if we correct the time-stream, it's possible he could just step outside of it again, and this all starts over." Peter's heart had sunk to the bottom of his boots as the weight of this realization dawned on him.

Nebula's dark eyes met his, and he could see all he needed to see in them to know that his suspicions were correct.

"So what's stopping him? Why not just go back and undo everything we've done so far?"

"You, I think." Nebula answered, making Peter's blood run cold. "There was a section in the book, about Celestials and other ancient beings, and some connection they held, but I had skipped over it since it didn't seem pertinent to my goals at the time. If you are a Celestial, even in part, then that would explain why you can remember all these things that no one else can. It's just a theory, but I believe that Thanos doesn't _actually_ know who you are. That's why all the other Guardians were locked up under his control, but you were still free. If you grew up with the ravagers under another name, then he would have no means to have tracked you down. If he _does_ find out who you are-"

"-Then he can just go back next time and kill me when I'm a kid." Peter swallowed around a lump in his throat. Suddenly, all of Gamora's questions about the Eclector and his past were starting to make a terrifying sense, and Nebula's earlier warning that she 'knew too much.'

"Maybe." She was pursing her lips as she stared out the window, and one hand was held up to her chin. "But I'm suspicious that there's more to it than that. If he just wanted you dead- why not kill you now? Why keep your friends alive instead of eliminating them so you couldn't possibly use the stone? Why have so many bounties that _specifically_ instruct you to be brought to him alive? And why that giant push to take the Fords the moment he thought he had you? Thanos isn't interested in information that he doesn't need, so he's after something else here."

"I already spoke to Gamora," Nebula continued, as Peter's brain struggled to make sense of all this new information. "She claims she never shared any of her information with the Black Order, as she was set to give her report to Thanos in person, and I'm inclined to believe her."

"Well... Flark," Peter finally breathed out. His heart was hammering and there was a faint tremor in his hands where they were wrapped around the controls. "So what do we do now?"

"We get your friend back. We gather the forces we can. And we kill my father."

It sounded so easy when she put it like that, but as the Milano reached the jump point and began to rev up for the leap, Peter felt like he might be crushed under the weight of this new information. He was less than a cycle away from getting his team back, but somehow, he felt further away than ever from going home.

****End** **

 

 

**Chapter 18 Preview:** "... _you won't be able to save them on your own. If you go back and Thanos discovers you know the truth, then what? He just makes up a new set of memories and it's like this never happened? Then how will you ever get them free? Let us help you."_

_"Why!?" She demanded. "Why would you help me?"_

_"Because it's the right thing to do. Because we need you. And because we are friends, even if you don't remember that part_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain is soup right now.
> 
> Let me just say that I'm sorry if it reads a little odd. I don't know what I did, but I hurt my neck and shoulder on Saturday and it's been getting progressively worse all week. I've been getting maybe three hours of sleep a night, one hour at a time before the pain wakes me up again. I finally caved and went to a doctor, and they prescribed me some muscle relaxants and some heavy pain meds.
> 
> So this was all written in a lot of pain and sleep deprivation, and the editing was all done on Tramadol and muscle relaxants. So if it feels a bit choppy I apologise. I might come back to it and tweak some things once I'm feeling better and have a clearer head, but seeing as I'm on Muscle relaxants, Tramadol and over 800mg of Ibuprofen and I still feel like there's a knife buried in my neck... that may be a while.
> 
> Thank you for slogging through, regardless! Hopefully Nebula's reveal at the end made sense. Of course I'm drugged up for the big important info dump scene. lol.
> 
> There's not a lot of Gamora here, as she's largely still in shock and sorting through what's real and not, and there was just too much imminent threat to get out of the way first. Next chapter will deal more with emotions, and such.
> 
> Thank you everyone for your continued support! That last chapter was a very personal one for me and I was so terrified when I posted it, but everyone her and at Ao3 had such a positive and supportive response!
> 
> ~OMaM


	18. Gather the Soldiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to gather the soldiers and make a plan, but things are as tense as ever between the assassins, and Peter is struggling after what he's learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super late, and not that exciting, update. This week has been crazy. Some friends came for a surprise visit from out of town for a couple days, then when I started feeling better I stopped taking the pain meds and that was a terrible mistake. The stuff they gave me makes my head so loopy, but I've had so much ibuprofen this last week I couldn't eat anything, and was getting about 5 hours a night on top of working, then my brother dropped off his puppy for a few days for me to watch while he was out of town.
> 
> It's been crazy. But he has his puppy back now, and I seem to be able to actually sleep at night. I have a prescription for PT, so hopefully I'll be starting that soon and this can all go away. Thank you everyone for the well wishes.
> 
> Title is from "Caesar" by the Oh Hellos.
> 
> Guardians of the Galaxy and characters belong to Marvel.

** **Chapter 18:** ** ** **Gather the Soldiers** **

Nebula left shortly after their conversation. Once they had made several jumps, and Peter felt satisfied that Thanos's men wouldn't be tracking them down any time soon, he returned to the main room as well so they could go over the details of the plan.

Down in the common room, Gamora was seated at the table, on the same chair that Drax had removed the backrest from. Her hands were still bound, and the makeshift stool was probably more comfortable. Groot sat across from her at an angle, and Drax sat at the head of the table, his fingers laced together as he watched her through narrowed eyes. Nebula was leaning against the makeshift kitchenette, her back turned to the room as she fiddled with a mug of what was probably tea, judging by the steam rising out of it.

"Okay," Peter said, clapping his hands together and trying to force at least a little cheerfulness into the atmosphere. "We've got a little less than a cycle until the meeting with Korath, so let's get a plan together and get some rest. I'm sure we'll need it."

"Do you always wait until the last second to make your plans?" Gamora spoke up.

"Yeah." He gave an easy shrug. "It's kind of my specialty. I'm an 'in the moment' kind of guy. Last second panic is my greatest muse."

Gamora looked less than pleased by his answer, her eyes falling back to the table in thought.

"Look, Gamora, I know this isn't what you wanted, but I need to know if we can trust you to play your part in this. I promise we'll make it look good, so Thanos won't know that you're helping us, but for the swap to go off right, we're going to need your cooperation."

"I am not running away and leaving my parents behind," she said slowly.

"Gamora..."

"No. I don't know who you think you are, or what you think you know about me, but we're _not friends_. How can I trust you won't sell them out the moment you're in trouble?"

"Because that's not what we do. I know-"

" _Do you know_? Do you know what it's like to lose _everything_ in a matter of seconds? To find out _everything you built your life on was a lie_?" Her voice was low and dangerous and her eyes were chipped ice again when they met his, free of the madness he had seen there last time they were on the Milano. Gamora was in control now, but she had a fair point. She didn't know who he was. He was just going to have to show her.

"Well-"

"Does Thanos have his hands around the neck of someone you love?"

"That's..." Peter swallowed hard as he stared at her. She was looking back at him like he was a stranger, and it was like being stabbed in the chest all over again. That was a loaded question. And one he was better off not answering right now. "That's not what's important here... Gamora, you won't be able to save them on your own. If you go back and Thanos discovers you know the truth, then what? He just makes up a new set of memories and it's like this never happened? Then how will you ever get them free? Let us help you."

"Why!?" She demanded. "Why would you help me?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. Because we need you. And because we _a_ _re_ friends, even if you don't remember that part."

Everything fell into tense silence for a while as Gamora held his gaze. She was searching him for something. The catch probably. She was trying to figure out what his angle was here, and he could only hope she'd be satisfied with whatever she found.

"Fine." She eventually relented, and the whole room seemed to breath again. "I will give you a chance, Star-lord. But just a chance. You can have fifteen cycles. If my parents have not been freed by then, I will do it on my own."

"Okay." Peter perked up, glancing around at his teammates. "Fifteen cycles, I can work with that. Where are they?"

Gamora straightened up and clenched her jaw.

"...I don't know," she finally breathed.

"What?"

"I'm not sure." Some of the fire seemed to drain out of her in the wake of uncertainty. "Thanos would let me visit them sometimes. They were... on my homeworld last time I saw them... but I think that was a lie. The new memories- The real memories- are different. They're on a different planet, but I don't know where."

There was a snort from where Nebula was still leaning on the counter, stirring something into her mug.

"Is this funny to you?" Gamora snarled, rounding on her sister as best she could.

"It's hilarious," the blue assassin replied, dropping the spoon with a little clink into the makeshift sink.

Groot let out a gasp from his spot at the table.

"Just imagine," Nebula continued, pulling away from the counter and smiling into her mug as she circled around the table. "Perfect, flawless, little Gamora, actually _not knowing something_. It's like everything I ever wished for. Back when I still believed in wishes."

"Nebula!" Peter snapped as she passed him. "That's not helping."

The blue assassin paused next to him at the base of the steps that led to the flight deck. She glanced up and, for a moment, he thought he saw something like guilt flicker over her face, but before he could be sure, her expression hardened and she hauled herself and her steaming hot drink up into the cockpit.

"I wasn't trying to," she called back, as she vanished from sight.

Peter let out a loud huff of frustration, but let her go for now. There was still so much unpleasantness between the sisters, he hadn't really expected it all to run smoothly anyways. They would just have to get through this like they had everything else.

"I am going to go wait with our assassin for the dog's hail," Drax stated, standing from his chair. "Perhaps we should rest first, and then reconvene to make our plans. Her's tend to be more reliable than your desperate schemes."

"Hey!" Peter held his arms out, not sure how things always came back to insulting him. "They're not 'schemes.'"

"I am Groot."

"Oh, how would you know," Peter griped, sending the Colossus a betrayed look.

-x-

Things relapsed back into awkward silence after Nebula and Drax left. Peter busied himself for a while fixing a drink of his own; a cheap coffee substitute designed for extended space travel. It was very bitter, and had an after taste like someone had dipped their old boot in the pot, but it got the job done and it stored for an impressive length of time. He didn't really need the caffeine so much as something to do with his hands for a few minutes.

Gamora had returned to staring at nothing in particular, probably lost in thought. He didn't envy her the task of having to sort through a lifetime of horrors in search of what was real and what wasn't.

"Do you want some?" he asked, turning to offer her the mug he had just poured.

She looked up with a less than amused expression and a dramatic wriggle of her still bound hands.

"Are you going to offer me a straw to drink it with, or this part of my punishment?" she asked flatly.

"Oh, right." Peter set his mug on the table in front of her and set to work undoing the very complicated knot Nebula had tied the cord into. "Sorry."

"No," she sighed when she was finally free, pulling her arms in front of herself and rubbing at the bracers covering her wrists. "It's the wise thing to do."

"Do you want anything in it?" He asked, moving back to pour another mug for himself.

"This is fine," she replied, not looking at him as she drew the mug a little closer. Peter frowned and pulled out a couple packets of sugar, tossing them onto the table in front of her, before adding a couple to his own.

"You always put two sugars in your coffee." He said with a shrug when she quirked an eyebrow at him.

Gamora ignored the packets and took an experimental sip of her coffee. “Ugh!” Her face immediately screwed up and she set it back down, snatching up the packets and dumping their contents into her mug. “What is this?”

"Junra Travel Brew," he laughed. "It's supposed to be great for storage. I think it's just that it already tastes so bad, it's a relief when it finally goes stale."

"It's awful," she informed him, but she took another sip anyways, making a face as she swallowed it down.

"Yeah." He smiled into his mug as he took a seat across from her and next to Groot. "But it's all we got."

"You know they're not going to accept me, right? This whole 'happy family' nonsense your spouting is just that. Nonsense."

"It's more like... wishful thinking. Educated wishful thinking."

"That's not a thing," she told him with a note of exasperation.

"Is so."

"I am Groot."

"How would you know? It could so be a thing!"

"It's really not."

"I am Groot."

"Okay, now you're just ganging up on me," Peter huffed. "Look, I know you can get along, because you've done it before. I mean, don't get me wrong, it wasn't always pretty. Drax and his gang nearly killed you the first time you met, and he Rocket nearly blew each other's heads off our first day together... but we worked it out. Mostly."

"They will never forgive me," Gamora said, staring at her reflection in her mug.

"You don't know that." Peter lowered his voice a bit, although he wasn't entirely sure who Gamora was referring to at this point.

"I know that I've done unforgivable things," Gamora replied.

Her shoulders had a slump to them and she looked so dejected, or at least as dejected as he had ever seen her look, that Peter was at a bit of a loss here. Gamora had never been one to just wear her emotions on her sleeve. She must have really been rattled.

"What must my parents think of me?" She whispered to her coffee, her face was carefully blank, but her knuckles were white around the handle.

"That you're a survivor," Peter said, trying to convey as much confidence as he could. "I'll tell you the same thing I told you yesterday in the flight deck. Nobody here is innocent. We've all done what we needed to do to stay alive, and sometimes, yeah, those were some pretty godawful things, but sitting here moping into your coffee isn't going to help anything. Come on Gamora, you've never been a moper. That's my bit. You're usually the one who comes and kicks my butt when I've been moping around for too long."

"Why would kicking you in the butt cheer you up?" She finally looked up, and somewhere under the misery and self-loathing was a feint spark of his Gamora. Hardly more than a dying match in the darkness, but it made his heart beat a little faster just by its mere presence.

"What can I say? You have a way with kicking my butt." He smiled, pulling his own mug up to take another sip.

She didn't seem to get it, but they were interrupted anyways by the heavy thunking of Drax's boots on the ladder.

"We are receiving a hail from Knowhere," Drax informed him. "I will watch over the Green woman so you can take it."

-x-

[ _Brother Peter_!] Peter honestly had no clue how the psychic's voice was coming through the speakers of his communication system. He could probably just ask Cosmo, or even Nebula, who was seated in the pilot's chair that he was leaning against, but it could wait for now.

"Cosmo!" he greeted. "What's the news?"

[ _Cosmo's new friends will be happy to hear that Cosmo has successfully procured, howyousay, back up!_ ] The dog's smiling face took up most of the screen.

"That's great! What are we working with?"

[ _Comrade Yondu has agreed to put up entire Ravager fleet and main ship._ ]

"That's great Cosmo."

"It's a good start," Nebula agreed.

[ _Cosmo can also spare twenty armed ships from Knowhere. Is not much, but Knowhere has only small number of guards. Cosmo will also be accompanying brother Peter himself.]_

"Wow, thanks Cosmo. That's really generous."

[ _Da, is no problem. Cosmo happy to help._ ]

"Are these pilots very experienced in open battle or ambushes?" Nebula asked, pulling them back on track.

[ _Da. Several have military experience. Others are retired from... less law-abiding professions. Cosmo will not be sending the younger and untried members of his guard_.]

"That's good." Nebula nodded. "Whoever comes will have to be able to take orders and change plans quickly. We still don't know what we're going to be up against."

"Alright, let's set up a meet-point so we can co-ordinate with everyone," Peter said, leaning forward to flick through the maps Nebula had left open of their jump-point route.

-x-

The Eclector was able to take multiple jumps without having to cool the engines between them, so the large ship was already ready and waiting by the time the Milano exited the last wormhole to their chosen meet-point.

A half a dozen mismatched ships dotted the empty space around it, like little moons orbiting a planet.

The Eclector's hangar door opened as they approached and Peter guided them in, passing a row of unfamiliar ships that were docked in among the Ravagers usual fleet. By the time he found a place to wedge his ship into the overcrowded bay and joined the others to disembark, Kraglin was waiting for them to lead them up to where everyone was already gathered.

"Hey boyo," Yondu greeted him from where he stood over a table at the center of a rather crowded looking drafting room. "I see you brought the whole crew?"

Peter glanced behind himself to watch his friends follow after. Groot had to duck through the doorway, and seemed to be having trouble closing the door behind himself.

A tall, wide table filled most of the room. Yondu and a handful of his ravagers took up the head, while a dozen or so of what must have been the guards from Knowhere were gathered closely around the rest of it. At Yondu's greeting, a few of them shuffled apart, opening up just enough room for Peter and his crew to wedge in.

_Cosmo is glad to see you all looking well._ Straight across from them, Peter could now see Cosmo, with his front paws splayed across the table. Someone appeared to have dragged a chair over for him. Peter could see the plush back of it sticking up from behind the dog.

Peter knew that was probably a subtle reference to Gamora, who was currently standing towards the back of his group and doing a very good job of vanishing into the background, and he appreciated Cosmo's discretion.

"Yeah," Peter answered with a thankful smile. "We're doing fine, thanks."

_Wonderful. Cosmo would like to introduce guards who will be assisting you._ Cosmo turned to gesture with his nose at an imposing Autocron to his left. _General Chromoly will be leading guards so Cosmo can go directly with Peter and keep nose out for any others who can touch minds. Was trained in military on home planet. Very good army, but Thanos destroyed it. He is of few survivors and helps train younger guards on Knowhere now. Cosmo trust him with life._

"Oh, well. It's nice to meet you, Chromerly?" Peter tried.

"Chromoly," the general corrected him, with an easy smile.

_And this is Colonel Jakkeih._ Cosmo gestured to his other side to a severe looking Pangorian woman with a jagged scar across her temple. _Is next in command, and good at keeping others in line._

"I'm also the best pilot this side of the Godstear's Galaxies," She said with a wicked curve to her lips. The Pangorians were known for their lifestyle of piracy, and Peter could easily imagine her in one of the stories his mother used to tell him when he was a kid, sailing the seven seas and finding lost treasure.

"Well, we might have to see about that," Peter laughed. "But man am I glad to have you."

"That's enough of this mamby-pamby stuff," Yondu broke in. "You can mingle with y'r new friends later, Quill, we got some business to attend to first."

"Right, right. So how do we want to work this?"

Kraglin, who had somehow wiggled his way back to Yondu's side, reached forward and typed something into the side of the table, and a dated holographic display of a planet blinked to life in the middle of everyone.

"So this is Traxxon III," the first mate stated, tapping a point on the transparent planet that caused it to zoom in slightly, revealing a very empty and barren landscape. "It's pretty small, actually more of a planetoid than a planet, really, but it was charted before the-"

"Kraglin." Yondu cut off his first mate's rant with a sharp rebuke.

"Right, uhm, anyways, as I was sayin', it's really small, and the system around it is pretty crowded." He tapped the planet twice and it zoomed out to display the entire system. Traxxon III was highlighted and easy to identify as several other planetoids came into view. "Now they're all actually orbiting a dying star, but the star's so far away I couldn't zoom out enough to see it and the planets at the same time. Which is a good thing, because the radiation it's throwin' out has already rendered the whole system lifeless. Traxxon III's got a pretty thick atmosphere, t'boot, so we should be alright s'long as we don't drag our feet. And it'll help keep the other side from wantin' to stick around or set up any elaborate traps either."

Kraglin zoomed back in on a cluster of planets that were hemmed in almost uncomfortably close together, with Traxxon in the center.

"Ages ago, this system had another planet that was blown apart, and the debri got caught up in the gravitational orbits of the remaining planets." A cloud of tiny dots, like flies buzzing around a rotted fruit, lit up around the planetoids, seeming to be thickest around their chosen meetpoint. "Our plan is to use this debri as cover for our fleet and a base for our ambush."

"Won't the other side have the same thought?" asked Chromoly, one hand held up to his chin.

_Da,_ Cosmo answered, i _s likely. But won't be expecting Peter to have backup, so we retain the element of surprise._

"Korath is the one who responded to-" Nebula paused suddenly, eyes flickering over to Gamora for the briefest moment as she seemed to realize what she almost said. "Korath is the one we spoke to, so hopefully it'll be his fleet we're dealing with. His soldiers are largely young and untried, and should be easy to outmaneuver here."

"Remember," Peter added, "we don't have to beat them, we just have to get Gamora and Rocket and cover our tails on the way out, so no one needs to do anything crazy."

"That's rich comin' from you, Quill," laughed Oblo from the Ravager's side of the table. The rest of the ravagers around him broke into a mix of toothy grins and poorly hidden snickers.

"Quill is actually quite poor," Drax rumbled over Peter's shoulder. "He complains about it often."

Drax's defense only made the ravagers snicker harder. A couple of them broke out into actual hoots as he felt the heat rising to his cheeks.

"Guys, come on," he appealed.

"Quill's sorry state of affairs aside, the clock is tickin'." Yondu brought the table back under control "So let's move on t'the next order of business."

_Da. Should know what Peter's plan is for exchange of prisoners, so the fleet will know when to move in and 'cover tails.'_

"The hardest part will probably be the uplift-"

"Rocket," Peter interrupted. The table fell silent for a moment as he locked eyes with Nebula.

"...Right. The hardest part will be getting _Rocket_ to cooperate. I doubt he'll remember you any more than the rest of your friends here have. It's likely their plan may rely on him simply turning on us as soon as the trade is complete."

Peter frowned at the image that brought up.

"Then we will simply have to find a way to subdue the rodent - _Rocket_ -" Drax amended when Peter gave him his own warning look, "until we are clear of Thanos's men."

"I don't want to hurt him," Peter ground out.

"It might not be able to be helped," Nebula replied with uncharacteristic patience. "He was engineered and trained to be a deadly weapon which Thanos could use to break into places the rest of us couldn't access. Holding him against his will won't be easy."

"What do you suggest?" Drax asked, and Peter held his tongue to wait for her reply. By the time they met, Rocket had escaped twenty-two prisons, and he broke them out of the Kyln like it was child's play. As usual; she had a point, he just hated it.

"I think our best chance would be to demand they hand over the controls to his obedience collar _before_ the swap." Peter opened his mouth, but Nebula held up a hand to cut him off. "We won't use it unless we absolutely have to, and we'll need it anyways, if you want to take the collar off."

"Can't you remove it like you did Groot's?" Peter asked.

"If I tried to remove his collar the way I did the tree's, I'd snap his neck. If the collar's surge didn't stop his heart first. No. We need the controller."

"Alright." Peter relented. It was better than leaving it in Korath's hands, and Peter was already planning on getting it anyways, he just really didn't like the thought of actually using it. "We'll get the controller. Then what?"

"Gamora."

All eyes turned to regard the other assassin who had remained quiet through the entire exchange.

"Yes?" Gamora straightened slightly, and pulled her shoulders back proudly under the mass scrutiny.

"Since we can't have you simply double cross them and return to us, we'll have to send someone to subdue and retrieve you. They'll have no idea what's been done to you, and you'll, obviously, still be bound. Drax and I are the best suited at close combat so we'll cross the divide to retrieve you while Quill provides cover fire."

"I am Groot!" Groot spoke up from where he was towering over Peter's other shoulder.

"No," Nebula continued, accurately inferring Groot's complaint. "You aren't as mobile as Drax and I, and this will depend on speed more than power. The longer it takes us to get back to the ship and lifting off, the longer they'll have to call in their fleet. Focus on shielding Quill and get ready to cover us as soon as we're back in range."

"I am Groot," Groot relented, mollified by her response.

"You have to go down _quickly,_ " Nebula stressed, staring directly at her sister now, who was matching her hard look with a glare of her own. "We don't have time for you to make a big show of it for Thanos."

"I get that," Gamora ground out slowly, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms. "What do you take me for?"

Nebula just wrinkled her nose and turned back to addressing the table before Peter could step in to break them up.

"As soon as we make the grab for Gamora is probably the best time to have the fleet engage. The added cover fire will give us a better chance at actually getting back to the ship and off the planet in one piece."

Kraglin cleared his throat in the awkward pause that followed to draw the attention back to himself and his holo-map.

"There's a couple'a jump points nearby," he stated. Three bright dots appeared, two of them nestled awkwardly in the asteroid field, and one larger one situated between two of the smaller planetoids. He pointed to one of the smaller ones among the asteroids. "This is the one we'll be comin' in from, so they don't see us approach n'case they're already there when we arrive. And this big one here is the one you'll be taking the Milano through. Gives you a clear sight in case they're plannin' to jus' ambush you on the way in, and keeps their eyes offa where we'll be."

"The Eclector's too big to go unnoticed, so it's gunna be parked on the far side of the point we came in from. Once you got yer friend, hightail it outta there an' get through that point as quickly as you can."

Peter ran his tongue over his teeth as he watched Kraglin's finger track the pattern through the asteroid field. Two jumps that quickly wouldn't be good for the Milano's engines, but nothing a bit of maintenance couldn't fix.

"The other M-ships and the Knowhere ships that can't handle mass jumps'll close in after you, and soon as everyone's aboard we're gunna make a huge number of jumps into uncharted space where they won't be able to track our path. You got that, Quill?"

Peter nodded in affirmation. So far, he was feeling pretty good about this plan. Even if Korath's numbers far exceeded their's, they should still be able to pull it off. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd once been a part of a similar acquisition with the ravagers when he was much younger, and they were after something from some snooty empire with an over sized army."

After running through some of the finer details and a more elaborate map of the asteroid belt and the best route to the jump point, the meeting started to break apart.

"Hey Quill." Peter paused as he was following his crew out the door at the sound of Yondu's voice.

"Go on guys. I'll meet you back at the ship." He waved them on before turning back into the room. "What's up, Yondu?"

"That's just what I want to know," The captain replied, pinning Peter down with a look that told him this wasn't the time for jokes.

"What do you mean? We just went over-"

"I mean all of this." Yondu cut him off. "Everything from the moment I picked your scrawny ass up and you start insisting you're name is Star-lord, a name that's got one hell of a bounty on it, and when I start inquirin', I find that bounty is placed by none other than the Titan himself. Then you show up one day outta nowhere, with one of Thanos's own assassins in tow and beggin' me for help freein' some ' _friend_ ' a'yours that I ain't never hear of before, and come back with a second goddamned assassin; Thanos's own favorite daughter. And now the Chief a' Security is willin' to go to extreme measures to help you attain this last 'friend' a yours. Now I want to know. No more games, boy. Just who and what the _hell_ are you?"

Peter blinked.

"I'm Star-lord," he answered, with conviction that he felt for real this time. "I'm a Guardian of the Galaxy."

****End** **

 

 

**Chapter 19 Preview:** "... _Peter swallowed thickly. Cosmo's faith in him was both reassuring and terrifying. It also confirmed Nebula's theory about Peter's connection to the Light, which meant that Ego would definitely remember everything that had happened. A fresh wave of guilt ground down on him as he was forced to finally consider the fate of his last unaccounted for teammate. He had no idea what had become of Mantis_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was by far the hardest one to write yet. Partly because I've been such a scatter brain and had a really hard time focusing on more than a couple sentences at a time, and partly because I removed an entire arc from the story and am trying to cram in the only couple of important scenes that needed to happen into this and the next chapter, so I feel like the flow is off, but I'm not sure if it's just because I already had an idea for how it was going to go and now it's different or what. I've also been in an awful mood between the lack of sleep, the frustration of not being able to focus, and the constant pain, so I kept getting frustrated and hating everything I'd done and wanting to just trash it all, but I was afraid if I took a break I wouldn't be able to pick it back up. I have seven different versions of this chapter, which is, by far, the most I've had to do so far. The good news is by the time I was done chopping up and rearranging scenes, I already had a good start on the next chapter. It's all such a mess, though. I'm still not happy with it, but I don't think there's any way I'm going to be happy with it, I just need to move on. None of it's going to matter in the long run as much as I'm making it out in my head, and If I can make it to the next arc, I'll be fine. It's one of my favorites, so things should pick up steam there at least for me.
> 
> In the mean time, I'm sorry to say that there may be some delays in posting. I might be able to get back to my regular weekly updates, but sometimes the leaning over my laptop starts to hurt, so I have to take extra breaks. I won't say for sure either way, but just a head's up.
> 
> Gamora remains difficult to write, but I think I'm finally finding a feel for her. Hopefully in the next couple chapters it won't feel so rough.
> 
> Thanks again for all the well-wishes. They really helped keep my spirits up while I was busy being grumpy and beating myself up over the story. I feel like I lost a lot of confidence, and fun, in these last few chapters, but they made me keep working through the slump, and I think I'm through the worst of it now. You all rock!
> 
> ~OMaM


	19. Picking Fights with the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the not-so calm before the storm, Peter is forced to come to terms with a few things he's been trying not to dwell on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100k! I made it! Yay! I'm actually super stoked about that right now.
> 
> Title is from "Sorry About Your Parents" by Icon for Hire. I ran into this song as a happy accident and it was such a perfect song for the sisters and Peter, and for this chapter which kind of focuses on Ego and Thanos and their shitty parenting styles, and the relationship between the sisters as of right this moment.
> 
> Thank you everyone for your patience with me these last few weeks. Updates will continue to be sporadic for the foreseeable future. I was supposed to go see the PT last week but got called in to work when one of my coworkers injured her shoulder. We're all cursed! 
> 
> Characters belong to Marvel, not me.

** **Chapter 19: Picking Fights with the Past** **

Peter hung around long enough to give Yondu a very brief version of the events that occurred in the other universe, stopping after the death of Ronan and creation of the Guardians. He didn't see any reason to tell the Ravager captain that his own men had mutinied and that Peter had met his father, who had ultimately lead to Yondu's own death. Yondu didn't ask any questions, and by the time the captain let him go, Peter still wasn't sure if he believed anything he had told him. He didn't have time to worry about that right now, though. They had a little under a half of a cycle left until the designated time.

On his way back to the ship, Cosmo met up with him with a sharp bark.

_Brother Peter!_ The cheerful, heavily accented voice boomed in Peter's head as he was descending the last flight of stairs into the hangar. The dog was waiting for him at the base, tail held high and waving back and forth.

"Hey Cosmo, what's up?" he asked as he made his way to the bay floor.

_Cosmo will be accompanying Peter's group during the trade,_ Cosmo answered, falling into step as they made their way together towards the Milano. _Cosmo thinks it would be best if he boarded now, and would like to place a, howyousay, curtain over green woman's mind._

"A curtain?"

_Da. Is like... camouflage. In case anyone tries to peer into her mind. Will not hold up to close scrutiny, but will reassure anyone who tries to touch it from a distance._

"Oh. That sounds like a good idea. Thanks man."

_Is no problem._

"No really it's... not to sound ungrateful, but, why? Why... all of this? Why are you willing to go so far to help me?"

_Cosmo and Peter are brothers._ Cosmo tilted his head up at Peter, like he was confused by the question. _Are Earth-brothers and Light-brothers and Cosmo knows that this is wrong path. Universe must be returned to correct course, and Cosmo believes Peter can do that._

Peter swallowed thickly. Cosmo's faith in him was both reassuring and terrifying. It also confirmed Nebula's theory about Peter's connection to the Light being responsible for his ability to remember the other universe, which meant that Ego would definitely remember everything that had happened. A fresh wave of guilt ground down on him as he was forced to finally consider the fate of his last unaccounted for teammate. He had no idea what had become of Mantis.

-x-

Peter and Cosmo returned to the Milano together to the sound of arguing.

"That can't be good," Peter grumbled under his breath as he sped up a bit. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with this right now.

In the common room, Gamora and Nebula were standing on either side of the table. Gamora had drawn herself up to her full height with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, while Nebula was leaning forward with her hands on the table.

"I was trying to help you," Gamora was saying as he stepped foot on the ship.

"You were helping yourself!" Nebula shot back. "You never cared about anything else!"

"I kept you alive!"

"YOU DESTROYED ME!" she screamed, slamming her hands on the table with a loud bang.

"I _didn't know_!" Gamora's face remained stoic, but her voice was raising as she struggled to keep herself under control against her sister's needling. "How are you not getting this?"

"Right. And how convenient! You didn't know, so I guess everything is forgiven! Poor little Gamora has an excuse for everything. Nothing is ever your fault, is it!?"

"HEY!" Peter shouted, jogging up to the table. "What the hell are you guys doing?"

Nebula snapped her head around to shoot him a glare so heated that it actually gave him pause. After noticing his flinch, she seemed to cool off just a bit.

"Forget it," she growled, dragging herself away from the table, and storming towards the flight deck past Drax, who was standing with Groot at the far side of the table, looking ready to break up any physical altercation, but otherwise unwilling to get involved. "Just call me when we're ready for the final jump."

"What the hell happened?" Peter asked in the resulting silence. Drax just offered him a half shrug, his own arms crossed tightly as well, and Groot seemed to be at as much of a loss as Peter was.

"Gamora?" he tried. The green assassin was staring after her sister with a strange look on her face, and her lips pressed tight. She refused to meet his eyes.

_Perhaps it would be best to give them some time to cool off._ Cosmo trotted up the ramp after Peter, moments before the engines pulled to life and the ramp began to raise. _Cosmo needs to discuss placing curtain over mind with Green woman anyways. Is best to do this alone, with no distractions._

It was a not-so subtle dismissal, and the annoyance Peter felt at being ordered around on his own ship paled in comparison to the wave of guilty relief he felt at the letting someone else take over for a bit.

Peter was so worn out, he had a hard time believing it hadn't even been a whole cycle since he had first stepped foot on Knowhere and met Cosmo. It felt more like a week ago now, and he was honestly a little grateful for the excuse to let Cosmo take over and slip into his room for a break.

-x-

In his room, Peter was disappointed to find that, despite his exhaustion, sleep would not come easy. He lay on his mattress for some while, staring at his ceiling and matching his breathing to the soft _K-thunk_ of the engine, and wishing he had his Walkman. At the very least, it would be a comfort to be able to fiddle with it, but he must have left it in the cockpit, because when he pulled open the drawer to look for it, it was gone.

Instead, he carefully rolled the box containing the Awesome Mix Vol 2 in his hands. He had moved it to his room for safe keeping after his ship had been ransacked on the Dark Aster, and it had bounced around with all the other debri during their wild escape. There was a little rip in the corner of his mother's careful wrap job, where it must have struck against the corner of something. Even though he knew what was inside, he hadn't opened it yet.

Now that he had a chance to breath, and the escape of sleep was stubbornly eluding him, he had no choice but to actually deal with the reality of everything he had learned this past cycle. And the reality was bad. It was so bad.

This whole time, he was sure that as long as he got his team back, they could fix the stream and everything would go back to how it was before he woke up here. This was all just going to be some weird dream that he could laugh about over breakfast while he looked into the smiling, safe, friendly, faces of all of his friends. But now he had found out that even if they did pull that off, Thanos could just snap his fingers and this whole nightmare started over again, or worse. How was he supposed to defeat Thanos? The biggest warlord in the known Universe, who took out Xandar and the Nova Corps like it was nothing, and just demolished a three-galaxy stronghold?

The hair on his arms seemed to stand up as the cold realization settled in that he probably wouldn't be going back any time soon. He might not be going back at all. Ever. This broken, shattered, abused version of his friends suddenly became a lot more real. Just snapping his fingers and fixing everything felt so stupid now. He felt stupid. A burning, shameful heat crawled across his cheeks and settled heavily on his chest.

He hadn't been taking this all one hundred percent seriously. He hadn't wanted to, to be honest. Taking things seriously had never really been his strong point. It was just how he dealt with bad things; He laughed. He took his blows, he shook them off, and he hobbled onward. The wounds would heal in time, so what was the use in dwelling on them in the mean time?

_'Sometimes you just have to laugh it off,'_ his mother had told him once, back when he was very little and she still had hair that shimmered like spun gold all around him while she cradled him and his freshly scraped knee in her lap.

_'Life is funny sometimes, my little Star-lord,' s_ he had whispered into his hair while tears slipped down her face and dripped onto his head, a receipt for a doctor's visit crumpled and shaking in her hand.

_'Smile for me, Peter. No matter what, promise me you'll never stop smiling,' s_ he had begged him with a tattered voice and eyes that couldn't quite seem to focus on where he stood beside her hospital bed.

And he had promised. And in his life, he had broken that promise precisely four times. Once when she had asked for his hand and he had fled in terror, a day that he would regret for the rest of his living days. Once, when he thought he was going to fall to his death on the Dark Aster, and Groot had burned to cinders around him. Once, when he discovered that Ego had been responsible for the loss of Meredith Quill, when Yondu had died in his arms and Peter could do nothing but cling to him and watch as he died. And once, in the engine room of the broken Milano when he had driven Nebula away and had woken up bound and betrayed in the dark.

Logically, Peter knew that his broken promise was not what had led to these terrible moments, but Peter had never been a very logical person. He didn't like not laughing because _'The real world hurts, kiddo,'_ as Yondu had told him once, and at the time, spitting out blood on the dirty floor of the Eclector while the Ravagers laughed around him, he had thought that truer words had never been spoken.

Peter didn't like not laughing, because when he stopped laughing he made terrible decisions. He ran away. He picked fights with people that were much bigger than him, and his friends and allies paid the price.

In the silence between his laughter, he had watched his loved ones die, and as the weight of this reality settled on him and the silence filled the room, he wondered who he was going to lose this time. The smiling faces of his friends flashed behind his stinging eyes; Groot, who had been locked in the dark and used as a punching bag, Drax, who had been thrown in that pit and left to die, Gamora, who's entire life had been a lie, Rocket, who had never once known freedom, and Mantis... He didn't know what had become of Mantis... He was afraid he'd already lost them all, and just hadn't realized it.

He didn't know how long he had spent stewing in misery and self-pity, and letting his thoughts chase each other in circles, when the door to his room opened. He was more than a bit surprised when Nebula slipped through, closing the door after herself.

"Here," was his only warning before she tossed something at him.

He caught it just before it landed on his chest and was surprised again to find it was his Walkman.

"I fixed it," she said, and Peter pulled himself up into a sitting position to open and close the little plastic door and toggle the on switch. The clear plastic screen still had little fractures tracing through it, but the tape started spinning and the first few notes of 'Come and Get Your Love' played before he shut it back off.

"Thank you," he said, setting it and the Awesome Mix Vol 2 in his lap.

"Your welcome," she said quietly, and moved to leave.

"So... what did you do?"

"What?" she asked, stopping to look back at him.

"Please," he snorted softly. "Rocket pulls this exact same crap. Whenever he does something he feels bad about, he never apologizes outright, but it's like he has to make up for it by fixing things. I finally realized, you do the same thing. Like when he stole the Anulax batteries and blamed himself for Yondu's death, then he called the rest of the Ravagers for the funeral, and slaved over repairing Yondu's arrow for Kraglin. Or when you were upset about the fight on Halfworld so you basically fixed the entire Milano on your own..."

"You're comparing me to a talking woodland creature?" she asked with a flat look.

"That's not how I think of him." Peter replied, and was surprised for a third time when she actually looked chastised and dropped her eyes.

"So..." he said, lifting up the Walkman and wiggling it slightly. "What is this about?"

"Nothing," she said with a defensive tone bleeding into her voice. Her shoulders were pulled tight and she looked like she was still debating just leaving.

Peter stayed quiet, taking a page out of Gamora's playbook when she was trying to draw a confession out of Peter and just letting Nebula work her way through the problem without pushing her, which would undoubtedly end this conversation right away.

"You weren't aware of Gamora's altered mind?" she finally let out, still not looking at him.

"No," he answered with a scrunch of his eyebrows. "How could I have been?"

"But you knew her in your universe, and she had never mentioned it there?"

"I don't think she had it there. She didn't have her parents either. She told me outright that Thanos had murdered them both in front of her. I guess, maybe Thanos thought he could control her better this way."

Nebula crossed her arms tightly and lapsed into another beat of silence.

"But she was still... her?" Nebula asked.

"What do you mean?"

"She was still Thanos's _favorite_?" She finally looked back up to meet his eyes. "She still... did everything that he ordered her to do, even with a free mind?"

Peter had no clue where she was trying to go with this.

"...She was still a monster?" It was a barely audible whisper, with a desperate crack.

And then something clicked, and Peter thought he might know what she was trying to say here. "Is that was this is all about?" he asked. "You think that because _you_ did all those things with a free mind, it makes you somehow... less than her?"

"I have always been weaker than her." Peter wasn't sure he was actually meant to hear that. She was staring at something a million miles away, and was beginning to resemble a trapped animal again, and Peter realized that whatever he did here, he had to be very careful. He could easily destroy every hard-won scrap of trust that had developed between them with a few misplaced words.

Without taking his eyes from her, he set his Walkman and the wrapped present aside and scooted over to make room on the mattress. When she just curled her lip slightly at that, he sighed and slid off the bed entirely so that he was sitting on the floor with his back against it, and gestured again for her to take a seat. A breath he hadn't realized he was holding slipped out when she dropped her arms to her side and actually sat down on the floor across from him with her back pressed against the wall and her knees drawn up as though trying not to touch him in the cramped space between his bed and the wall.

"Yes. As far as I know, Gamora was never under any sort of mind control in my universe. And yes, she was still the most feared woman in the galaxies, and Thanos's favorite daughter, yadda yadda. But that doesn't matter. Whatever... method Thanos used doesn't matter. He stole you both when you were children, and forced you to do whatever he wanted. You said you were an infant when you met Gamora. Do you even _have_ any memories of before him?"

Nebula didn't answer, but the way she seemed to crumble inward at the question told him anyways.

"You're not a monster," he continued. Measuring his hushed words carefully in the silent room. "I mean, you're not totally innocent, neither of you are, but I really don't think you're a monster. And neither does Drax, or Groot, or the Ravagers. I think they actually like you more than they like me right now." He tried and failed to keep a small note of jealousy out of that last bit, but she didn't seem to notice.

"I killed them."

"What?"

"In your universe, I killed them. Isn't that what you told Gamora?"

"Wow." Peter let out a long breath. His poor sleep-deprived brain could only take so much. "Okay, look, I'm not going to get into the details because... It's really something I don't want to talk about, but you didn't actually kill anyone, so much as you opened up the door for a mutiny that was a long time coming. A mutiny that, may have ultimately been caused by me. I don't want to start playing the blame game here, because, to be honest, none of us are going to come out of that looking too pretty. I guess it was just easier to say you did it, than to admit the part I played in it. And I really didn't want to do that at the time. I didn't realize it was bothering you this whole time, and for that, I'm really sorry."

Nebula blinked at him, her eyes wide, like she wasn't sure what to do with his apology. This was at least his third time apologizing to her since she'd saved him from the Dark Aster, but he got the feeling it wasn't something that had been a regular occurrence for her growing up.

"You've done some pretty terrible things, I'm not going to deny that, but you're not a bad person, and you're making up for it now. I mean, I'd be dead at least three times over if not for you, and who knows if I'd have been able to even _find_ Drax and Groot. No one here is comparing you to Gamora except yourself, so do us all a big favor and at least try to stop, Okay? You're not the same, and that's fine. We don't need a second Gamora, we need you. Don't get me wrong, I love Gamora. We have this whole... unspoken thing..."

Nebula's brows raised as some of the misery melted away, replaced by what Peter could only call bemused disgust.

"That's funny," Peter laughed. "I think that's the same face she made when I told her that."

"I thought you were trying to say we weren't the same?" she shot back. Her voice was still hushed, but she was beginning to sound like her normal sarcastic self again.

"You're not, but you're definitely siblings," he said with a smile.

Nebula just let out a small snort and a tiny shake of her head, but her lips were pressed together now like she was holding back the start of a smile herself.

"So... are we good?" Peter asked.

"You're not going to tell me why you're so upset?" she asked, looking pointedly at where the Awesome Mix Vol. 2 was set on the stand by his head.

"Are you... asking me how I'm feeling?"

Nebula made a face, like she hadn't even realized what she had done, then stood to leave.

"No, wait!" he called. "I'm sorry. Come back. I actually do need to talk to someone, but it's about... Celestial stuff, and the others don't know about that yet..."

"You haven't told them?" Nebula asked dubiously, but she settled back down.

"No," he sighed. "I will, I just... It's not a conversation I'm looking forward to."

"So what is this about?"

"The thing is... there's one more Guardian," he admitted, staring at his hands.

"Another friend?" There was a note of either annoyance or suspicion in her voice. "Why have you never mentioned them before?"

"Because... She wasn't with us when we took on Ronan, and I had thought that I could make it back and none of this would matter. Remember when I told you my dad's kind of a total asshole? Well, she's kind of with my dad, and when I first got here, I figured she'd be safe there. Safer than any of the rest of us, anyways. It didn't even cross my mind that he might remember everything when no one else seemed to. Then when the dreams started-"

"Dreams?" Nebula interrupted.

"Yeah. I've been having weird dreams about... galaxies, and the Light, and something... there's something out there that always seems to be chasing me, but I can't see it. They started to get more vivid after Halfworld. I started to hear his voice, and I thought he was looking for me, but lately, I'm not so sure..." Peter thought again of that creepy version of Ego with Yondu's teeth that he'd seen in the space outside of Gamora's mind, and Cosmo's warning about other things lurking in the Blind Place. "But we were so close to getting Rocket back, I still thought I could fix this all without having to see that deadbeat again. That sounds so terrible."

"It sounds prudent," Nebula replied. "You were working with the knowledge you had, to take the quickest path to your goal."

Peter leaned forward and rubbed a hand across his face. His forehead was warm to the touch.

"But then you told me your theory about how being a Celestial is why I remembered, and Cosmo confirmed that he remembers, too. This whole time, I've just left her there. If what you said about Thanos is true, too, then I'm not going back any time soon, and we need to go save her before it's too late. If it's not already." Peter hung his head miserably. He had wasted so much time chasing the hope of a quick fix, and that could have cost his newest friend everything. "I've wasted so much time."

"If it makes you feel any better;" Nebula started slowly. "If he did intend to kill her, I'm sure she would have been dead long before you could have possibly made it there, even if you had known."

"That... really doesn't," Peter said, looking up.

Nebula just pulled her brows together in apparent confusion and tipped her head slightly.

"Thanks anyways."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Huh?"

"If you really are intending on taking on a Celestial, then you'll need a plan and you'll need to focus. I suggest you stop dwelling on what you didn't do, and starting thinking about what you can do now. Start with retrieving Rocket and surviving tomorrow." Nebula stood and he got the sense she was done with this for now.

"Thank you, for staying," he said, still a bit surprised she'd actually done it.

"You would have bothered me with it sooner or later," She said, reaching the door. "This was more efficient."

Peter frowned and reached behind himself to grab the pillow from his bed and lob it at her, but she was already gone and it bounced off the closing door harmlessly.

For a while, he just sat on the floor, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at his pillow. His talk had help him break through the worst of the funk.

Nebula was right; He didn't have a plan to defeat Thanos, not even the start of one, but he didn't need one _yet_. The only thing he needed right now was to make it through tomorrow, and to get his friend back. If anyone could figure out a way to take down Thanos, Rocket and Nebula could. They were both terrifying on their own. If he could get them working together... who knows what crazy impossibilities they could pull off.

So he would get Rocket back. Then they would go rescue Mantis. He wouldn't consider the possibility that she wasn't there. He couldn't. Then they would do what they had always done; They would protect the Galaxies. Now that the panic had passed, Peter was surprised to find that this changed nothing right now. It changed nothing _yet_. But if he wanted to make it through this, if he wanted to save his friends in this universe, and if he ever wanted to get back to his, he was going to have to start taking things a lot more seriously.

He could do this. One step at a time, and with his friends at his side. It played like a mantra in his head. He could do this. They weren't dead _yet_.

-x-

Peter managed to get a few hours of sleep in before he couldn't take it anymore and returned to the common room. The others appeared to be equally antsy, and were seated around the table. Drax and Gamora had mugs of coffee set in front of themselves, and Peter poured one for himself before taking a seat between Gamora and Cosmo.

"Where's Nebula?" he asked, realizing someone was missing again.

"She is monitoring the ship and keeping an eye out for any enemy ships," Drax told him, laying another card down on the table between himself and Groot. Peter thought he recognized this as a game Drax had taught them all to play in his other universe. "We have been taking turns."

"I am Groot."

Peter smiled into his coffee. The likely hood of them being attacked before making it to the point was minimal at best, and the ship was fully capable of handling itself in autopilot. Groot was probably right; She was probably mostly just sleeping up there. That was fine, though, she had hardly had a chance to recover from whatever she'd been doing during their time apart, so she probably needed it.

"How are you doing?" he asked, turning to Gamora, who had been watching Drax and Groot's game with a casual interest.

Her gaze briefly flickered over to him before returning to the game, clearly not impressed by his concern for her.

"Do you want to play?" he tried. "I have another deck around here somewhere."

"Will it put an end to these awkward attempts at conversation?"

"It's your best bet." He grinned, knowing he had won.

"Fine," she said with a wave of her hand, and Peter wasted no time hunting down the spare playing deck.

****End** **

 

 

**Chapter 20 Preview:** "... _he left me'n Horuz in charge of the ship an' the crew and said to make sure you don't get your 'dumb-ass killed or captured down there.' His words." Kraglin looked so small in the Captain's chair. He more closely resembled the little bobbles resting on the side than the imposing man who usually sat there._

_"So Yondu just left?" That didn't sound like something he would do_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nebula's going soft, and learning to use her words, and Peter's getting better at stopping and thinking things through, even if they're not things he wants to think about. I think they're good influences on each other.
> 
> Not much happens here, since this is actually just the second half of the last chapter which grew too long so I split it in half. Sorry if this was all a bit mushy. Since I removed pretty much an entire arc, I'm trying to cram in the few important things that need to happen before the next one starts, so it feels like a lot of development with not much actually happening to me. On the up side, the next chapter is where the heavy action starts, and it's going to be the biggest fight scene I've written yet. It'll probably be a two-part chapter as well.
> 
> I also got here a little faster than I meant to, and have to make some decisions that might affect what's going on on Earth right now, which I've been trying carefully to avoid until Infinity Wars comes out, but I don't want to wait a whole three weeks to write the next chapters... urgh. I just have to get past these next two or three chapters and then it's back to the super fun stuff, and I have some great reveals lined up that I cannot wait to get to.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for your continued support and lovely comments. They give me life.
> 
> ~OMaM


	20. Help Is on the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for the trade approaches, but as ever, when things go wrong, they do so spectacularly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and support during all of this.
> 
> GotG belongs to Marvel. This is a fanwork made only for entertainment.
> 
> Title is from "Help is on the way" by Rise against.

** **Chapter 20: Help is on the Way** **

They spent the last couple of hours before the meetup playing card games and drinking coffee, occasionally going over smaller details of the upcoming plan. Peter even managed to score a few wins against Gamora, who was using the same old strategy she had used back when they'd first started playing in his universe, before she changed tactics and proceeded to claim almost every game afterwards.

Eventually, the time grew close and they broke apart to get everything ready. Nebula came down and, after a brief discussion, tied Gamora's hands in some sort of special knot that supposedly Gamora could undo herself if she needed to.

Cosmo had brought some lightweight communicators with him which could be clipped onto their ears. They were standard equipment of the Knowhere guards and would allow them to communicate with the ships above. The Ravagers had all been given the frequency codes and Peter attuned his mask with relative ease. Gamora's was hidden on her person so it couldn't be easily seen, and if it was found could easily be misconstrued as having been placed there in secret by one of the others.

Their preparations were interrupted by the trilling of the communications system.

"Hey there, Pete," Kraglin greeted when they piled up into the now rather crowded flight deck to answer the hail.

"Kraglin? What's up, where's Yondu?"

"I don't know what you'n' the Cap' discussed in private, but he got real quiet and left shortly after. Said he had one more ace up his sleeve, but it wasn't the kind'a place you can jus' call up. So he left me'n Horuz in charge of the ship an' the crew and said to make sure you don't get your 'dumb-ass killed or captured down there 'for he got back.' His words." Kraglin looked so small seated in the Captain's chair. He more closely resembled the little bobbles resting on the side than the imposing man who it belonged to.

"So Yondu just left?" That didn't sound like something the captain would do.

"Yeah. He said to go on with the plan, and if things go wrong, just hold out and stall 'em. I don't know what he's up to, but it seemed real import'nt to him." Kraglin looked a little upset. "I don't suppose you'd have any clue what he's up to?"

"No. No idea," Peter said truthfully. Kraglin seemed to be a bit mollified by that, at least. He had always been a bit jealous of Yondu's obvious soft spot for the Terran, and it had been a source of strain on their relationship growing up. It had largely faded away after Peter had left and made it clear he had no intentions of usurping the first-mate's hard-won position. Still, every now and then the old rivalry between them would rear its ugly head in the oddest of ways.

"A'right, well, most a'the ships are in place and ready. Just wanted to touch base and make sure everything's ready on your end."

"Yeah. We're almost all set here. I'll send a signal when we're ready to make the jump."

"Good. See you on the other side." He reached for the button that would cut off the call, then hesitated. "Good luck, Pete'."

"Yeah, Kraglin, you too."

Kraglin gave him a quick but sincere smile and the screen went blank.

"Alright, guys." Peter turned to face his friends gathered behind him. "Here we go."

-x-

Traxxon III was just as small and lifeless as promised. In person, it was a rustic red and sandy brown little orb with very little in the way of defining features, and most of it was obscured by the thick layer of asteroids caught in its gravitational pull. As Peter coasted in, an unknown hail signal lit up his communication console.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Star-lord," came the familiar voice of Korath.

"Hey Korath!" Peter greeted with such force Korath's carefully schooled face wavered a bit. Nerves were making him a little too jittery, and Peter tried to reign it in a bit.

"You're late," Korath hissed, recovering quickly. Peter was pretty sure they weren't late, but Korath's barbs weren't the top of his list of concerns right now. "I am sending the co-ordinates for where we've landed."

"Okay. Let's get this over with quick and we can all be on our merry way. And remember. No tricks. I'm not landing until I see Rocket."

"He'll be there," Korath promised darkly before disconnecting from their talk. A moment later, a set of co-ordinates blinked to life on the navigation panel and Peter guided them down through the asteroid field.

"I don't like that he was here so early and chose the meet-point," Nebula grumbled from the Co-pilot's seat.

"It doesn't matter," Peter replied firmly, possibly more to himself than to her. "We _planned_ for him to ambush us, so whatever he's up to, we'll be fine."

His crew-mates didn't look convinced, but no one else spoke up.

The tiny dark dot of Korath's ship finally came into view, situated in the center of a wide flat basin of some sort. The floor of what might have once been a deep valley was filled almost to the brim now with a flat and featureless desert that afforded nowhere for any enemies to be hiding in wait. Peter could easily see for miles in all directions. That was a good sign. If Korath _was_ planning an ambush of his own, it would have to be pretty far away, and that's what they were banking on. As they drew close, Nebula pulled up a magnified image from the ship's cameras of the Kree fighter below.

The enemy ship's loading ramp was wide open. Heavy boots were visible at the top of the ramp, but the rest of the bodies were obscured inside the entrance from this angle. They were probably the crew for Korath's fighter. It was at least twice the size of the Milano and polished with obvious care. At the base of the ramp stood a match set of Kree guards, with Korath in the center, a heavy blaster cradled lazily in his arms. At his side was none other than Rocket, ears pinned back and tail twitching. The ship and crew were bathed in the red ambient light from the thick atmosphere, turning their black armor and the ship's hull an eerie deep crimson.

Peter's hands felt clammy where they wrapped around the controls at the sight of his friend.

Peter guided them in to land a few ship-lengths away from where Korath was parked, prepping the ship for a fast takeoff before joining the crew at the loading ramp. Cosmo was standing off to the side, where he would remain hidden on the ship to keep a look out for other telepathic influences, and signal the fleet when it was time to engage.

"Alright guys," Peter said, jogging up to take his position at Gamora's side and activating his mask. "Show time."

The ramp lowered and Peter was immediately buffeted by the warm dry atmosphere. Despite the dim red lighting, it was so warm it felt like opening an oven or peering into the engine rooms mid-flight. The strange contrast just added a layer of disquiet to his already on-edge nerves.

"STAR-LORD!" Korath boomed across the distance between them. "Let's get this over with!"

"That's just what I was thinking," Peter grumbled to himself.

"Not so fast!" Nebula stepped forward as they had planned. "We want the Obedience Collar Controls, Korath. Hand them over."

"Fine," he sneered so quickly he'd probably been anticipating this demand, reaching to unclip something from his belt and holding up a small object that Peter assumed was the controls. "But I want the Godslayer."

Nebula's eyes flickered over to Peter's and he gave a brief nod. They'd be retrieving Gamora anyways, so it wouldn't matter. Nebula just gave a short huff and retreated into the ship, returning a moment later with the Godslayer in hand, waving it at Korath dramatically, before attaching it to its usual place on Gamora's belt.

"You'd better not stab me with this when I retrieve you," Peter heard her hiss under her breath.

"The controls!" Peter called, when the sword had been clipped on and Nebula had stepped back. Korath seemed satisfied at least, and chucked the item with impressive strength and aim straight to Peter who caught it with significantly less grace. He fumbled around with it for a moment like a wet bar of soap before finally managing to get a hold of it and held it up for inspection. It was a little black plastic cube, small enough to fit in his palm, with a series of buttons that he couldn't identify and a little screen of some sort on the bottom that was maybe half the size of his pinky finger. It distantly reminded him of a garage door opener he'd once played with as a child, only this time he didn't have the urge to mash the buttons repeatedly or see what happened if you press more than one at the same time. Carefully, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his short jacket where he hoped it wouldn't get jostled around too much.

"Is that all?" Korath called.

"Yeah. We'll send them out at the same time. Nice and easy." Peter pulled out his quad-blasters and gave Gamora a little nod. If it was his Gamora, she'd know he was winking at her under his mask right now and probably roll her eyes at him. Instead, she stepped forward, her eyes hard and focused straight ahead.

Korath said something that Peter couldn't catch across the distance and Rocket moved forward as well. He did not look terribly pleased about any of this, his eyes were narrowed into little slits and his ears were pinned back until they nearly fused with his skull. He appeared to have been stripped of most of his weapons, although Peter would be hard-pressed to believe he didn't have something hidden away, and his hands were held up as though in surrender. Peter was grateful his mask would hide the heavy frown and discomfort he was certain was written across his face.

Peter's fingers flexed and fiddled with the triggers of his quad blasters while he struggled not to fidget too much. The distance which had felt so short when he was landing felt like an endless stretch now while he waited for Rocket to make his way to the ship. Nebula and Drax were doing a good job of remaining still, but behind himself Peter could hear Groot shifting anxiously as well. Just a few more yards. Rocket was close enough now he could see a small nick in his right ear, and a scar across his temple where the fur had grown back white.

From underneath the muzzle, Rocket's face scrunched up further as he passed Peter, probably curling his lips as he turned an ugly glare up at him. Peter kept his finger on the stun setting just in case.

Groot took advantage of Rocket's momentary distraction to make his move. A huge palm that he had gathered before the landing slammed down around the raccoon, wrapping around him tightly and pinning his arms tight against his side. Rocket let out a muffled snarl of indignation, but Peter didn't have time to focus on him. Nebula and Drax had already shot forward after Gamora, who had reached the far ship at the same time, and Peter began firing straight for Korath in a flurry of shots that were more rapid than well aimed, but they did the trick.

Korath was forced to retreat several steps back towards his ship, and Gamora ducked to the side, making room between herself and Korath's forces under the guise of dodging Peter's fire. Nebula reached her first, weapons drawn and connected into a staff which she used to drive her sister even further away from Korath's ship and his soldiers, which were caught between trying to assist Gamora and shield Korath from Peter's ongoing assault.

Groot still had Rocket caged in one hand and was using his other to form a sort of wall for Peter to duck behind and fire through. Between lining up shots, Peter saw Drax drive elbow-first into Gamora's side, slamming her into the ground in a move that probably would have broken some ribs were he not holding back. It still stunned her enough to allow him to grab her by the still-bound arms and haul her after himself as he sped back towards the ship. Nebula followed behind them, drawing a pistol she had brought with her and firing back to cover their retreat.

Korath, seeming to finally realize what they were doing, gave a loud shout and ducked behind one of his soldiers, using them as cover as he lined up a shot at the retreating trio with his heavy blaster. The rest of his crew renewed their efforts as well, focusing on Peter and forcing him to duck behind the wall Groot was building.

"Damnit!" Peter screamed over the sound of the enemy fire turning Groot's arm into mulch. "Groot, buddy, I need another opening."

"I am Groot!" The vines next to his face shifted to open up a narrow slit for him to fire through. Through the gap, Peter could make out Korath aiming straight for Drax, but couldn't line up his own shot through the chunks of wood and sawdust pinging off his mask.

"C'monC'monCmon," he hissed, getting ready to just take his chances over the top again when a fresh wave of shots rained down from the sky, scattering Korath's forces and forcing him to retreat to the cover of his ship. Their reinforcements had arrived, and Drax and Nebula redoubled their efforts to return to the ship, dragging a half-struggling Gamora behind them through the volley of ship's fire.

"YES!" he shouted, leaping back to his feet as they reached the ramp and sprinting for the flight deck, vaulting up the steps and diving for the pilot's chair as he deactivated his mask. "Grab a hold of something!" he yelled back as he mashed the button for the ramp and began to pull the ship from the ground. "It's gonna get a bit bumpy!"

Strange ships that must have been from Korath's fleet were already heading in, peeling off from another portion of the same asteroid belt the Ravagers and Cosmo's crew had come from and descending upon the fray like a swarm of bats. By the time the Milano was air born and up to speed, the enemy ships were mixing into the M-ships, scattering their formation, and forcing Peter to keep low as he skimmed over the unremarkable surface of the planet and searched for an opening he could squeeze through to get to the jump point buried in the asteroid belt above.

"What's going on?" Nebula's voice rang out as she and Gamora joined him on the flight deck. Nebula beat out her sister by a few inches for the co-pilot's chair. "Why aren't we off-planet yet?"

Gamora, who's hands were unbound now, gave her sister a reproachful glare before grabbing a hold of one of the oh-shit straps instead. Behind him, the heavy pounding of boots heralded Drax's approach as he took control of the weapons system in the third seat.

"I'm trying, but I can't find a hole to get through," Peter ground out, darting towards a brief gap of red-sky between a trio of M-ships, only to have to give up and roll out of the way when a Kree battle ship darted straight down through the gap, firing at the Milano and nearly colliding with them midair. "Damnit!"

"Horuz!" Peter called, activating his communicator. "What the hell is going on? I can't get into the air!"

"They're bottling us in from above," Horuz's voice crackled back, sounding strained even through the static. "We're try'na punch through, but they got some sorta heavy shields up. Try goin' around. We'll keep you covered from above."

"Something's wrong," Gamora said, leaning forward and craning her neck to peer up at the cover of ships through narrowed eyes. "There's too many of them, and this maneuver is too advanced for Korath's fleet to execute so well."

"And Korath doesn't have any Black Cruisers," Nebula added darkly, staring at something off to their right. Peter risked a glance at what she was looking at, and found a handful of very sleek, very fast looking ships skimming low to the ground and heading straight for the Milano.

Peter hastily steered them away, aiming for a mountain range that bordered the wide, flat, valley they were in. Korath's suspiciously agile fleet was using the open land that Peter had initially thought was too big and open for an ambush as a sort of pot, and their ships were the lid keeping them from escaping. If he could make it to the edges, he could use the uneven mountains as cover to try to get above the fleet and into the open sky.

Whatever those Black Cruisers were, they were fast. They quickly outpaced the Milano, cutting fearlessly through the wild shots raining down from the skirmish above and boxing them against the rocky wall of the steep Canyon-like edges of the mountains.

"Why haven't they taken us out yet?" Gamora asked as the ships drew so close Peter might have been able to see the pilots through the windshield if he wasn't so busy looking for an exit as their pursuers pressed them even closer along the wall.

"It doesn't matter!" he cried out in relief as he saw a narrow gap that looked like a river had cut a smaller valley through the mountains ahead. "We can lose them in the mountains."

"In the...? WAIT-!" Nebula's warning came too late, Peter was already making a desperate dive for the opening, twisting the ship onto its side and giving a whoop of triumph as he shot through before the Cruisers seemed to realize what he was doing.

His triumph was replaced with horror as the narrow gap opened up into a smaller valley where a new fleet of those strange sleek ships were waiting for them.

"SHIT!" Peter screamed, yanking the controls straight up, but it was much too late. A handful of Cruisers peeled off from where they were hovering like bats around the edges of the new canyon, and the group that had herded them in here spilled in from behind.

A barrage of heavy fire tore their shields apart like tissue paper, setting off nearly every alarm his ship had at once. As Peter turned the Milano's nose down in a desperate dive towards the sloping edge of the sandy valley floor, the shields fell completely and something big struck the side of the flight deck with an explosion that tore a hole through half of the windshield and reduced the wall behind Gamora to twisted wreckage. The blast and sudden rush of wind was cut through by a scream.

Peter risked another glance and felt his blood run cold. The shrapnel from the blast had struck Gamora, who had been closest to that wall. Dozens of smaller metal strips has sliced through her skin, some pieces still sticking out of her arm which was shielding her face, like a pincushion, and a thick twisted hunk of the ship's paneling was sticking out of her side, just above her right hip which was already turning dark with blood underneath the hand pressed against it.

His brain hardly had the time to process what he was seeing when a second blast struck from the other direction, rocking the ship on its side. It seemed to happen in slow motion; the ship was tipping, and Gamora, who had released the strap to cover her head from the first blast slipped towards the gaping hole behind her. The flash of surprise in her eyes was burned into his mind even as she was tossed into the open sky and vanished.

"GAMORA!" he screamed, struggling out of his seatbelt.

"Damnit!" Nebula spat, leaping from her own seat as he sprung past to grab him by the back of his jacket and fling him back into his seat.

"STAY HERE!" she shouted over the screeching wind. "I'll get her."

"Drax, take the controls!" Peter ignored Nebula's orders and leapt from his chair again as she dove after her sister, but hardly a moment after she vanished, a shimmering light closed over the hole like a force field, blocking the wind out and Peter in.

"Cosmo, what are you doing!?" he demanded, pounding against the bright field and trying to steal glances of the assassins as Drax swerved and dipped haphazardly through their flock of pursuers. They had, thankfully, been relatively close to the ground, and between the twists and turns he caught glimpses of Gamora slowing her decent by driving her Godslayer into the wing of one of the mysterious Cruisers, and landing in a tumble in the dusty sand. "Let me out!"

_Cosmo is sorry, brother Peter, but is not wise. Let blue friend retrieve her sister, we must continue._

"They're going to get killed!" he heaved. Foot soldiers had been hiding in the crevices of the valley walls. Peter watched in dawning horror as they swarmed down the wall and into the clearing towards the plumes of dust where his teammates had landed.

_Green friend is in no danger here, and Blue friend will be alright. Cosmo has already alerted allies. Reinforcements are on way to pick them up. Best we can do is keep going and draw attention away from them._

"Gamora's _injured_!" Another blast rocked the ship and Peter caught a glimpse of Gamora pulling herself to her feet and making a break towards the direction from which they'd come. Nebula was closing the distance between them when the soldiers closed in and Peter lost sight of them both behind the swarming black bodies.

"Shit! Gamora!" Peter switched his mic back on. "Gamora, can you hear me?"

"Quill!" Drax's voice blared out behind him.

"Gamora!"

"QUILL!" Drax tried again.

"Nebula!? Someone answer!"

"Enough!" A large hand wrapped around his arm in a bruising grip and yanked him down into the co-pilot's seat. "You must focus!"

Drax had moved into the pilot's seat and was struggling to keep them airborne as the swarm of cruisers closed in tight in what was clearly a well practiced maneuver, boxing them in and forcing them to descend. Cosmo shoved himself between the two seats, eyes still glowing with the effort of holding the ship together.

_Cosmo is doing best to shield ship, but they are trying to force us to land._

A proximity alarm was going off, alerting Peter to the impending crash and prompting him to engage the landing gear. Peter flicked the prompt aside and grabbed the controls. Drax gladly turned the steering over to him and re-activated the weapons system instead.

"Do you think you can manage if I try to punch through these guys?" Peter asked as he watched Drax's attempts to hit them with the ship's weapons glance off the Cruiser's sleek sides harmlessly. They were really getting uncomfortably close to the ground and Peter wanted to get out of this death box they were trapped in.

_Do what you must._ The light in Cosmo's eyes seemed to glow a bit brighter, and the shimmer started to overtake his body again like it had on Knowhere. _Cosmo will hold us together._

"Okay." Hopefully Groot was holding on to something down in the common room. Peter angled the wing of the Milano towards the narrow gap between two of the Cruisers and began pulling them to the side, driving the wing like a wedge between the two ships and wincing at the screech of the panels sliding over each other. The horrible crunch of warping metal accompanied the whine of the Milano's struggling engines as the enemy ships pressed back against the ship that slid stubbornly between them.

"C'mon, baby, you can do this," he whispered as the Milano forced its bulk between the Cruisers. The other Cruisers seemed to realize what he was doing and folded in, pressing so close around them, that the windshield was blocked entirely and they were enveloped in darkness. The engines were screaming and the smell of burning was beginning to flood the cockpit, making his eyes water and his nose sting. "Son of a-"

In one co-ordinated movement, the ships below them peeled away and the ones on top shoved them down, decisively driving them the last small distance into a dune rising like a frozen wave from the valley floor. They hit with a bang, the nose catching in the sand and sending them flipping nose over tail and throwing up a massive spray of chalky red dust that obscured everything. Peter could do nothing but screw his eyes shut and pray that Cosmo could keep them from being torn apart.

Eventually the rolling stopped and Peter peeled his eyes open to asses the damage. The hull was washed in a dim orange, the only light filtering in through the heavy blanket of dust hanging in the air around them. The lights on the console and the noise of the engine were gone, and Peter had been in enough crashes to know that they weren't coming back online any time soon. His ears were ringing, and he was going to have some very deep bruises in the shape of the seat belts, but he'd live, through the crash at least. What was waiting for them next was another matter entirely.

Drax was looking much the same, and was working himself free of his own buckles already. Beside him, Cosmo had somehow managed to not be thrown around at all by the tumble, probably through his telekinetic powers, but as the ship settled into a slanted, though mostly upright position, the light enfolding his body faded away and the dog slumped heavily, his haunches hitting the floor and his head hanging as he panted.

"Cosmo, are you okay?"

_Da._ Even the voice in his head sounded a bit strained and little puffs of dust slipped through the gaps of the wavering field over the hole in the ship's side. _Cosmo is alright. Just needs to catch breath._

"I am Groot?" Came the creaking voice from below, as Peter pulled himself from his seat as well.

"We had a bad landing. Get ready, I'm sure they won't give us long to recover."

Groot joined them in the flight deck, carrying in one arm a heavy tangle of branches that likely contained Rocket. Peter was glad to see that the colossus looked entirely unfazed by their hard landing. As he approached Peter, he paused to hold up his other hand, opening his fist to reveal the Orb cradled in his palm.

"I am Groot."

A wave of trepidation rolled through Peter's body at the sight of the Orb. That same unsettling feeling that chased him through his dreams seemed to arise whenever he laid eyes on the thing, but Groot was right. It was too dangerous to leave it behind, and the Milano was going nowhere fast.

"I am Groot?" Groot asked with a hint of concern when Peter's hesitation became obvious.

"No, I'm fine," he assured his friend, reaching out to accept it and shoving it into the pocket on the inside of his jacket where it rested, heavy and cold, against his side.

"Horuz? Chromoly?" Peter tried over the coms. "Can you hear me?"

"Quill?" He was met with the faded voice of _Colonel Jakkeh instead._ "What's your status?"

"We're down," he reported, glancing around at his remaining companions, the details of their faces becoming clearer as the dust around the ship began to settle and more light eked through.

"Injuries?" she prompted tightly. Through the link, Peter was pretty sure he could hear the sounds of the air battle going on around her.

"We're fine, but Gamora was hit and thrown from the ship. Nebula's with her. They're near where we entered the valley." Through the dust settling outside of the ship, a long dark shadow was beginning to form and Peter squinted as he tried to make sense of the wavering blob.

"Cosmo already alerted us. I've sent ships to locate them, but we're heavily outnumbered and outgunned up here." Through the static and distance, Peter could hear the strain in her voice.

"Yeah," Peter said absently as a breeze picked up and the dust rolled aside to reveal the dark blob had been a line of heavily armed soldiers in black uniforms that looked a bit fancier than what Korath usually brought with him. Standing at the center, his war hammer held proudly at his side like some sort of banner, was Ronan the Accuser. "I think we're feeling the same down here."

"Stay alive," Colonel Jakkeh ordered. The sounds of battle through the com were beginning to bleed into the real world as the Ravagers and Knowhere's forces must have made it through the opening to the smaller valley. "Help is on the way."

****End** **

 

 

**Chapter 21 Preview:** "... _Okay, guys." He said, catching his remaining crew's attention. "Help is on the way, so I say we draw this out, don't engage unless-"_

_Peter was cut off by a loud, bellowing scream_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When things go wrong, then they do so spectacularly, don't they?
> 
> Korath wasn't the main boss, just another distraction all along. lol. Action scenes remain my Achilles heel, and this one is a gigantic pain as it was meant to take place somewhere entirely different in the story, so I'm trying to cram it all in where it doesn't belong. Thank you all for suffering my learning process!
> 
> ~OmaM


	21. As Far as I Could Get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things turn from bad to worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is THE LAST CHAPTER of book one!
> 
> Book two will be up within the week if all goes according to plan, so keep your eye out for it! It will be uploaded as a new story/document. For more information, see the notes at the end.
> 
> Song title is "As Far as I Could Get" by Florence + the Machine.
> 
> I do not Own Marvel or any associated characters. This is purely a fan-made work for entertainment!

** **Chapter 21: As Far as I Could Get** **

"STAR-LORD!" The Accuser's voice rolled across the dry empty wasteland with all its usual flare and command. "You are defeated. Surrender now, and make this easier for everyone."

_Crapcrapcrapcrap!_ This was not at all going as they had planned it. A glance upward through the fractured panes of the Milano confirmed that the Black Cruisers hadn't gone far after forcing their landing. He could see their sleek forms circling the downed ship like vultures. Even if Cosmo could patch the hole in the Milano's side, there was no way it was getting them back into the air again. Their only choice was to wait for another ship to pick them up, if they could survive Ronan's forces until then.

Details became clearer as the dust storm they'd kicked up in their landing dispersed. Ronan's force was smaller than Peter had first suspected, probably only about three dozen or so, but that was still plenty to give his battered team a serious run for their hides. And if the sight of those soldiers who had swarmed from the edges of the valley walls over Gamora and Nebula were any indication, more would be joining them soon. There didn't seem to be any ships in the soft little valley aside from the cruisers, though, so if they could hold off engaging until help came, they might make it out of this still. Peter was good at distractions, and Ronan, with his flare for pomp and delicate ego, was easy to distract.

"Okay, guys," he said, catching his remaining crew's attention. "Help is on the way, so I say we draw this out, don't engage unless-"

Peter was cut off by a loud, bellowing scream. Suddenly Drax was rushing past him with weapons drawn, and leaped straight out the gaping hole in the windshield.

"Ronan!" Drax snarled as he charged the war-lord. "You will pay for what you've done!"

"Or we can just do that," Peter grumbled, activating his mask and kicking his boots to life as he leaped out of the Milano after Drax.

As Peter had predicted, the Cruisers moved in as soon as they stepped foot into the open. Cosmo, who seemed to have recovered or caught a second wind, threw up a shield over their heads to stave off the worst of the ships' fire. The wilder shots sent up a fresh spray of dust wherever they landed, quickly obscuring the battlefield once more, and pinning them against the ship.

"We need to get through to Drax!" Peter shouted over the sound of fire reigning down around them. "He's going for Ronan. He can't take him on alone!"

_Dust will be making enemies blind as well as us. Cosmo will hold shield and we can make a run for it. Stay very close._

"Okay. Let's just try to get Drax back and stay alive until reinforcements can make it to us."

The run through the dust, thick and heavy like a dry fog, and quickly coating them in a fine layer of silt, -it might have blinded Peter were it not for the mask he wore- was interrupted by the appearance of several soldiers who appeared to have been rushing towards the ship. Peter wasted no time in firing at them. Groot used his free arm to shield the group from the worst of the weapons in the enemies' hands as they spread out to circle them. From behind that partial shelter, Peter was able to take his time lining up his shots and pick off several of the braver ones when they tried to dart in.

Cosmo, still holding the shield over their heads, proved to be a formidable force in battle. Peter's already pretty steep appreciation of him rose again when a handful of soldiers had rushed in all at once in a move that was meant to overwhelm their smaller forces, and Cosmo had sent all four flying back from a burst of bright energy. That appreciation was quickly colored with relief that the dog was on their side when, hardly a moment later an opportunistic soldier darted in from a heavy puff of dust, a blade in his hand already sweeping a deadly arc towards the dog's skull. Peter hadn't even had time to call out a warning when, mid-leap, the soldier's head twisted at a sudden and unnatural movement and he crumpled to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

A shudder pressed up Peter's spine, but he could spare no more thought to it as the enemies started to realize that their smaller attacks were getting them nowhere and began to draw back and circle up. Details were lost as they retreated back into the dust, rendering Peter's aim all but useless. Likely, they were preparing some sort of co-ordinated attack. Well, Peter didn't think they should give them the time to prepare for whatever they had in store.

"They're circling up," he warned his companions. "I say we drive straight through and push on through towards Drax. I'll make an opening if you two focus on making sure we don't get turned into Swiss Cheese."

"I am Groot?" Groot asked, but he was already stepping in closer to cover Peter's side.

"It's something with a lot of holes in it," Peter explained, turning his blasters forward into the shadowy shapes through the dust cloud. Before he could get off his first shot, though, the shadow suddenly parted. In the gap, a new shape began to take form, taller than the rest, and with a distinctive sloping to his silhouette that gave away his identity even before the details of his garish face paint came into view.

"Ronan?" Peter hissed. "Where's Drax?"

"That thick-skulled barbarian?" Peter got the impression that Ronan was raising his eyebrows underneath the heavy black paint. "He's... busy elsewhere. Surrender, and I'm sure you can be reunited with your surviving friends. For now."

A fresh wave of distaste for the man before him washed up the back of Peter's throat as he worried over Drax's fate. From the sounds of it he wasn't dead, but Peter found it hard to believe anything short of that would have kept him from Ronan and his revenge.

As Ronan approached, the fire from the ships overhead seemed to recede, as though from some invisible signal. The circle of soldiers pressed back in, heavy on their commander's heels, but staying a respectful distance behind him.

"Now," Ronan said, coming to a halt in front of Peter and holding out the palm that wasn't wrapped around his very large war-hammer. "Hand over the stone. I know you have it."

Maybe it was just his imagination, but the Orb seemed to pulse warmer against his side as if in answer to the Accuser's wishes. Maybe it missed its old master who had fed it planets. Peter shook such thoughts away. The stone wasn't sentient, it couldn't want things, he was just being silly.

Peter raised his blasters and fired straight for the Accuser, darting back a few paces to put some distance between himself and the deadly bulk of the war hammer. The Kree hardly seemed fazed by Peter's attack, not even wincing as the shots from his blasters struck and fizzled out against his body. Ronan stepped straight forward with a speed that defied his heavy build and bulky armor, and swung his hammer as though it weighed nothing, catching Peter hard in the side. The blow knocked the wind out of Peter and sent him skidding through the dirt.

The visuals on his mask were flickering slightly when he blinked his eyes open and saw that Ronan had followed after him, hammer already coming down in a second swing that landed squarely on one of the blasters that had been knocked from his hand, shattering it into uncountable pieces.

The hammer raised again, but in a burst of viscous barking Cosmo leaped forward, his eyes blazing so bright that Peter had to squint against the light. A heavy blast of psychic power drove Ronan back and away from Peter, who was still struggling to catch his breath and pick apart the solid ground from the dust swirling around them.

Peter rolled onto his stomach and forced his wobbly legs underneath himself as Cosmo's barking faded slightly, muffled by the dust as he drove the warlord further back into the heavy cloud.

"I Am Groot?" Groot asked, his branching limbs falling down all around Peter like a shelter.

"I'm okay," Peter gasped out, reaching out with one hand to grab a hold of Groot's vines and pull himself up. His other hand, gripping his remaining blaster, was tucked against his side which burned with every breath he took. "I'll be Okay."

The ringing in his ears faded and the sound of the battle still raging on around them came back into focus. Groot wasn't just offering him some support to lean against, he was shielding him from the guns of Ronan's forces which had re-engaged at his retreat. Peter shook off the last of the fogginess as best he could and returned fire. As soon as Groot was certain Peter could stand on his own, he took up a more offensive attitude, smashing soldiers aside and forcing them to retreat once more to where they could fire in from out of the reach of his deadly arm.

The rise and fall of Cosmo's barking gave Peter the reassurance that his latest ally was holding his own against the war-lord. Through the dust, Peter could occasionally catch sight of the end of Ronan's hammer swinging about, often accentuated by bursts of bright light that reminded him of watching lightning dance through thunderclouds.

Peter was growing impatient for reinforcements to arrive, straining for any noise that might indicate the approach of friendly ships. Adrenaline was keeping the worst of the pain in his ribs to the back of his mind, but he was forced to take small shallow breaths and was tiring quickly. They're combined defense had reduced the soldiers a good bit, but it was only a matter of time before more reinforcements arrived, and Peter didn't know how long Cosmo could hold out against Ronan on his own.

There was a brief lull while the enemy soldiers seemed to be reconvening again. Peter took the moment of respite to catch his breath and test his weight on his right leg where he had taken a particularly nasty shot to his shin. He was happy to discover that it still bore his weight, when a sudden yelp exploded through the air, and Cosmo's body came flying out of the dust to land in an awkward tumble at Peter's feet.

"Cosmo!" Peter screamed, kneeling over the dog and deactivating his mask to get a better look.

To his relief, Cosmo struggled to his feet after laying stunned for a moment. A low guttural growl was rumbling out from his chest and his lips were peeled so far back Peter could see the pink gums underneath.

Ronan strolled almost casually from the dust where Cosmo had been thrown from, hammer held low and ready for the next swing. There was a strange shimmer to its metal now, and Peter felt an answering buzz in his chest at its approach that made the hair on his arms stand up.

Still snarling, Cosmo took a few halting steps towards the warlord. A wave of trepidation was stirring through Peter's blood at the sight of the hammer's unnatural glow, and he leaped to his feet, switching his mask back on. The damaged machinery flickered in protest before eventually managing to form into place.

_Be very cautious._ Cosmo's warning sounded labored, and wavered like his thoughts were coming in and out of focus. _Strange hammer has absorbed cosmic energy from Cosmo's attacks. It has a very nasty bite._

Ronan was continuing his leisurely advance, looking for all the world like he might start whistling and swinging his hammer about like a cane at any moment. Instead, when Cosmo rushed at him again, he swung it like the deadly weapon it was. The hammer never made contact, but it released a wave of bursting energy that knocked Peter and the remaining soldiers off of their feet, and flung Cosmo to the side like a rag-doll with another pained squeal.

"I AM GROOT!"

Peter lifted his head from where he had landed on his back to catch sight of Groot, who had somehow managed to stay on his feet, rushing forward to protect Cosmo's unmoving form. His free arm swung like a whip for the warlord, but Ronan met it with another brutal swing. The blast this time was smaller, but still shattered Groot's arm like it was made of glass. The colossus let out a bellow that was equal parts pain and surprise, but held his ground over the body of his friend.

Ronan pressed forward again and Peter surged to his feet. A backhanded swing sent another blast that hit Groot square across the chest. Deep grooves formed in the sand where the blow had forced him back, and the ground at his feet was littered with twigs that had been blown off of his body and the bundle of twigs Groot still held to his side that housed Rocket.

Terror spurred Peter's desperate dive for the warlord as he raised his hammer for a third swing. At this point, all poise and planning was thrown out the window and Peter drove himself bodily into Ronan's side, swinging his remaining blaster like a club for the Kree's face. This earned Peter the tiny reward of seeing Ronan's blazing purple eyes lose their composure for a moment and flash wide in surprise, but before Peter's blow could land, Ronan diverted the swing of the hammer to intercept him. Peter's blaster smashed against the base of the hammer at the same time the handle of the hammer smashed against the Orb in his pocket, and a burst of violet energy exploded out from between them, sending them both flying backwards. The shards from his broken blaster cut through his skin like schrapnel as he was flung through the air with such force that even the soft sand stunned him and left him breathless on impact.

Peter's helmet had finally given out completely, and he spat out mouthfuls of sand as he pulled himself to his elbows to search for his friends. Groot had been knocked to his knees, and the bundle in his remaining arm was missing another huge patch. A small black paw burst from the weakened branches, clawing them away as a silvery muzzle was shoved out afterwards. Groot's eyes grew huge as he realized what was happening as well and the vines around his prisoner began to regrow, but Rocket had already worked his head free and threw something small and blinking red at the arm that was holding him. A little, but firey, explosion weakened the remaining branches enough to allow him to slip free.

"No!" Peter screamed, voice hoarse with sand and dismay. He tried to stand, but only managed to make it to his knees. "Rocket! _Please_!"

Free of his prison, Rocket paused for the briefest moment to regard him with an unreadable expression that could have been pity as much as it could have been disgust, and then he turned and was vanishing into the dust.

From the same swirling cloud that Rocket's shadow had disappeared into, a much larger silhouette resolved. Ronan had regained his feet and was returning. On his knees, still, Peter felt all the emotions swirling within him, dread, fear, desperation, drain from his body like someone had pulled some sort of stopper from his feet and everything inside had slipped out, leaving him hollow and empty as the warlord advanced again, a dark look that promised pain etched across his dirty face. His paint had been smeared, and a couple of thin scratches ran across his nose where the shards from Peter's exploding blaster must have caught him. Peter flexed the hand that had been holding the blaster, realizing belatedly that it had been nearly sliced to ribbons. Blood was dribbling off his fingertips and sand was sticking in little clumps to the open wounds.

He just knelt in the sand and watched the furious Kree approach, feeling much like a deer in the headlights, or maybe more like a gazelle that had been run to exhaustion, until it finally collapsed and just accepted its fate like he had seen on the television as a child. He hadn't understood, at the time, how something could lay there so calmly and offer no resistance while its death just walked up to it. Now he thought he did.

The communicator in what remained of his mask was making garbled noises. It had taken Peter a moment to realize that this was probably the fleet trying to communicate with him. The ships must be finally closing in, he could hear the distant sound of the aerial battle. It was already too late. Should he try to contact them back? Let them know that everything had fallen to pieces down here and they should just escape while they still could?

Ronan's eyes were boring into Peter's, but his path diverted to the left, more towards where Groot was still stubbornly refusing to leave Cosmo's side. Peter tried to will his legs to move, his mouth to work, anything to stop Ronan from reaching his friends, but his body refused.

Ronan came to a halt before Groot and Cosmo, just outside of the reach of Groots's remaining, though heavily damaged, limb. Peter finally managed to stir his legs into motion but they moved with great difficulty, and the ground seemed to roll like waves underneath him. Ronan watched Peter's stumbling approach with disinterest for a moment before returning his attention to the bodies before him. As Ronan raise his hammer, Peter urged his sluggish limbs to move faster and reached towards the zipper of his coat. Maybe he could make a deal. He could surrender himself and the Infinity Stone in exchange for his friend's lives. Thanos wanted him alive, for whatever reason, and maybe his cooperation would be worth letting his companions retreat. It was all he had left.

This seemed to finally garner some of Ronan's attention. The Kree warlord paused, hammer still held above his head to regard Peter's approach with interest now.

"Ronan-" Peter started, when something huge careened out of the dust and smashed straight into the Accuser. It took Peter a moment to recognize it had been a ship. One of the black cruisers, he was pretty sure, leaving a trail of dark smoke in its path where it hadn't slowed after striking Ronan, carrying him out of sight for now. Peter doubted Ronan had been killed by the ship's impact, having survived the Hadron Enforcer point-blank and shook it off like it was nothing in his own universe, but it should buy them a moment's respite at least.

A second ship, with the unmistakable shape of an M-ship, swooped after it, still firing after the failing ship, and vanished into the dust as well. A tiny spark of relief pushed its way up from the emptiness and shock inside of him. Reinforcements had arrived. Which meant someone would be here to pick them up any moment.

Almost as if summoned by that thought, another ship appeared from above, flying a lazy circle around them and firing at the few guards who were beginning to make their way back after the last explosion, before settling into the dust a safe enough distance away that Peter's shaking form wasn't bowled over by the wind it kicked up. Peter recognized it as one of the Knowhere ships.

Peter glanced down at Groot, who looked back with a mixture of relief and guilt that he was sure was mirrored on his own face. They were saved, but they'd lost Rocket.

The ramp lowered and Colonel Jakkeih appeared with a pair of blasters in her hand and a severe look on her face.

"We've got to go!" she called.

Peter didn't answer, instead speaking to Groot.

"I'll go after him." The words slipped out of his mouth before he'd realized it. It sounded impossible even to his own ears, his body felt ready to collapse at any moment, but he had to try. They'd done all of this to get Rocket back, he couldn't leave this place without him.

"I am Groot." Groot reached up towards a hole in his chest with his battered arm and pulled something free, reaching up to hand it to Peter.

The soldiers that had been scattered by the blast with the Infinity Stone were creeping back again. Colonel Jakkeih was firing at them from her position on her ship's ramp.

"What are you doing!?" she screamed. "Hurry up!"

"What is it?" Peter asked, accepting the item, and holding it up to inspect in the flush red lighting. It was a small and entirely unremarkable twig.

"I am Groot."

Despite himself, a smile twitched at the edges of his chapped lips. Good luck, huh? Only Groot would give him a twig for good luck in the middle of all this chaos.

Peter swallowed down the lump in his throat as he tucked the twig carefully into his pocket, trying not to think about the twig that Rocket had rescued from the wreckage of the Dark Aster. It wouldn't come to that.

"We've got to get out of here, now!"

Peter glanced over his shoulder to see the colonel making her way over to the group of injured survivors, her progress slowed by having to match fire with the gathering enemy soldiers. He had to go, it was now or never. He didn't have time to explain himself and hope she'd let him go after his friend, and he couldn't risk her insisting on joining him and leaving Groot and Cosmo here undefended. That was, if she didn't just grab him and forcible haul him back to her ship, which he was in no shape to stop right now.

"Be careful," he said, turning back the battered colossus and feeling torn, and more than a little bit like he was abandoning Groot to the enemy, but time was of the essence, and he already didn't know how he was supposed to hope to find Rocket out there.

"I am Groot," Groot promised, placing his arm protectively over Cosmo and releasing Peter with a nod. "I am Groot."

Peter nodded back and took off in the direction that Rocket had vanished in, life slowly stirring back into his limbs as he gained a second sort of wind.

"What!? PETER! WHERE ARE YOU GOING!" The sound of Jakkeih's voice calling after him faded into the distance. He'd just have to trust that she would get his companions to safety. He'd figure out his own ride out of here when he found Rocket.

The wasteland that Peter jogged through was littered with debris from the battle above, and the occasional body of the soldiers. Some still smoldered from where they had been taken out by a ship's blaster, others lay in puddles of soggy dark sand, looking more like they had been hacked apart by a maniac. Peter allowed himself to hope he might run into Drax out here, but he never did. Occasionally he'd pass live soldiers scurrying by through the dust, ever present even out here thanks to the wild shots from the ships above, but Peter skirted around them or darted past as quickly as he could. He had no weapons, no strength, and no time to waste on one of them right now.

It was only by that same old dirty luck that followed him everywhere that he ran into Rocket again. He'd been fleeing a wave of stray blasts raining down from above when his boot caught on a piece of metal sticking out of the sand and sent him tumbling down a particularly steep and tall dune. He skidded to a halt at the bottom where the ground seemed to even out a bit and felt a little sturdier underneath him. When he looked up, he found Rocket, standing some distance away. He was holding a small weapon that looked like he had stolen it from one of the fallen soldiers and had been aiming it straight up into the sky. His back had been turned, but as Peter righted himself the raccoon turned around to face him. The dust down here, further away from the heart of the battle was thinner, but still obscured most of the battle going on in the sky above them.

"Rocket," Peter started, holding his hands up in a pleading gesture like he had on Halfworld. "Rocket, you need to come with me. Our ride's here."

Rocket's tail flicked and his eyes were narrowed dangerously.

"You can be free. For real. I promise," Peter pressed, taking slow steps forward. "But we have to go now."

Rocket raised the small weapon in his hand and fired it. Peter winced and covered his face, but Rocket hadn't been aiming for him. Instead, the weapon proved to be a sort of flare gun, and the blazing signal struck the ground between them, sending up a fresh shower of dirt and making a very clear threat; No closer.

"Rocket," he pleaded again. "Come on. I'm not here to hurt you."

As the dust started to thin back out, Peter could see that Rocket had edged back a few paces and was looking like he was considering fleeing again. He'd taken several more cautious paces back before desperation made Peter reach into his pocket and pull out the little black square that still looked like a garage door opener.

"Wait!"

Rocket's reaction was immediate, his face above the mask twisted into something dark and ugly, and he raised the flare gun to point directly at Peter's chest.

"Come on, man, don't make me do this." Peter's fingers trembled over the biggest of the buttons. He still had no clue what any of them did. If it had been his own Rocket, he might have been able to do it, and trusted his friend to understand why and forgive him in the end, but looking into the eyes of this universe's Rocket; muzzled and collared, he couldn't summon the courage to press the button.

Rockets eyes narrowed further. His hair was beginning to bristle up and his ears had all but vanished entirely into his fur. Peter was sure that if they were closer he would hear him growling.

"Just come with me." Peter reached out with his bloodied hand towards Rocket again. "Please."

They stood like that for several long agonizing moments, Peter silently willing Rocket to listen, before Rocket's ears twitched and the raccoon glanced over his shoulder at a dark ship that had dropped low and was coming straight for them. Rocket turned one last triumphant look at Peter before abandoning their standoff and darting straight for the incoming ship.

"NO!" Peter screamed, rushing after him, the controller still gripped in his fist and thumb shaking as it hovered over the button.

The ship was closing in, slowing down now that it was nearly on top of Rocket, and Peter was working up the courage to make a decision when a second black ship, looking like one of Korath's, came spinning out of the sky above. It was spewing an ugly black smoke from its engines, and crashed straight into the approaching vessel. The impact sent both ships flipping across the ground in a shower of fire and debris. Peter watched in horror as Rocket was swallowed up in the explosion moments before it reached himself. Burning hunks of rock and shrapnel pelted his body. Something hard, maybe a ships panel, maybe something else entirely, struck him hard in the head and everything when dark.

The world came back slowly this time. At its own unhurried gate, The red haze over his eyes resolved into the sky. The numb tingling in his limbs gave way to pain and exhaustion. There was something wet and sticky running from his temple, down side of his face, and pooling in his ear. One of his fingers was pulsing with his every heart beat and he wondered if it was broken again. A distant sense that he had been doing something important stirred in the back of his head, but finding the thought through the pain was like trying to make out the details of the ships through the dusty sky above.

Ships... dust... something important.

Peter tried to flex his fingers and toes and found he was gripping something tight in one of his hands. Rolling his head to the side to get a look at it resulted in a burst of pain and a wave of vertigo so bad he had to close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he found he was holding a little black garage door opener. Garage door opener? No. That didn't make any sense. It was like a garage door opener but he hated it. As he pondered why he felt such disgust over the tiny object clenched tightly in his fist, it came back to him that he had been following Rocket. The last image of his friend vanishing under the wreckage came fast and unbidden to his mind. Rocket. Peter heaved himself over to lay on his belly. He needed to find Rocket.

With some effort he managed to raise himself onto his elbows enough to search the sea of smoldering wreckage around him. It took a few tries, but eventually he noticed the tips of a pair of ears sticking up from the still smoldering wreckage, and the rest of his friend's body slowly came into focus. He wasn't that far away, no more than ten feet, -and how lucky was that- but to Peter it felt like miles.

Peter's attempt to stand didn't so much as get him to his knees before his legs gave and he collapsed back down. He gave up on any further attempts and settled instead for crawling. Even that proved arduous. One hand at a time, he began the agonizing process of sliding his broken body over the debris.

Something in his knuckle popped and shifted as he dragged himself forward. Yup. It was definitely broken again. A haze of dust and smoke, and a few things that were much less pleasant to think about stung his eyes and burned his already aching lungs. The crazed thought filled his head that he would somehow drown in it out here in the open air. A giggle bubbled in his throat at the irony but he swallowed it down. No. It was just the concussion. Ignore it. Focus.

What was he doing again? Oh yes. Through the film of smog and tears he could just make out his destination; a small form just ahead of him crumpled up like a discarded child's toy, grey fur tinted red in the harsh glare of this unforgiving lighting.

His other hand reached out and he dragged himself another foot closer. At least, he hoped it was the lighting that was flooding his vision so red.

Nails dug into the dirt as he heaved away another piece of the distance between himself and his target. Almost there. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the battle raging on without him. Screams, crashes, explosions; all so far away, swirling in and out of focus like the smog. Gamora was somewhere out there. The flash of her sword and the ice in her eyes somehow the only thing his mind could see clearly. She had vanished in a swell of soldiers with Nebula close in pursuit and he hadn't seen her since. She was alive. He had to believe that. The most fearsome woman in the galaxy couldn't fall here.

Closer. Closer. He realized the horrid rattling he was hearing was not the sound of a failing ship as he had thought, but his own ragged breathing grating in his ears. That could not be a good thing. He'd lost track of Drax almost as soon as the fight had started. A battle cry the only warning he had given before diving headfirst and weapons drawn into the fray. It was an act so stupid, so reckless, so brave and just so… Drax, that Peter could hardly find it in himself to be mad even as he cursed the impulsive fool. He could really use him right now.

Four feet had never looked so impossible, not in any of his wildest benders or worst bar fights – and oh, there had been plenty of both. He'd give his right arm to wake up on the floor of some unknown tavern- all of this just a horrible dream brought on by too much of a strange liquid Yondu had warned him against -which, of course, would have only made him down that much more-. But Yondu had left to fetch help, And help had never arrived. And now Peter crawled through the dirt and debris, trying not to focus on how the world tilted and swayed even under his prone form.

The twig in his jacket pocket dug into his bruised side as he slid across the dirt. Groot's parting gift. The thought was almost enough to give him pause as he worried over the fate of the companion he had left behind in the dusty fog. He couldn't focus on that now. He would be okay. Like Gamora, Groot was tough. And while he might be naive at times, he wasn't stupid.

Either the smoke was getting thicker or his vision was failing him as the light distorted further, spots were dancing at the edges and patches were mysteriously missing. It didn't matter. He was almost there. One thought playing over and over- like his tape player playing on repeat in the background- as all the other thoughts drifted in and out at their own accord. He would not let Rocket die wearing that god damned muzzle.

His annoying, infuriating, impossible best friend would not die like an animal. Caged and chained. Like the experiment 89P13 that he had always so feared becoming.

Panting and gasping, he reached out, stretching desperately across the distance, his fingers brushing against the smooth metal that covered his friend's face. Was Rocket even still breathing? He couldn't stop to check, his arm already trembling and going numb from the strain. With haphazard fingers, he searched blindly for the strap. Why couldn't he see? Had he closed his eyes without realizing it? He should open them but he was just so tired. Unconsciousness was calling in the sweetest siren song he had ever heard.

There! His fingers brushed across a thin strip of the same metal. That had to be it. A surge of hope gave him the adrenaline he needed to drag himself another inch forward and search down the strap for the clasp. His concussion must be worse than he feared because he couldn't find it.

More tears gathered in his eyes, not entirely due to the smoke and pain as he desperately grabbed at where a clasp should be, only to lose it entirely in fur. No. Nonono! He was so… so close… blood rushed in his ears, deafening, as light pierced through the veil of blackness. Was this it? He was dying, and he couldn't even do this one last goddamned thing.

The darkness swallowed him up and he knew no more.

****End Book 1** **

 

 

**Book 2 Preview:** "... _The door on the far wall opening with a little swish startled him out of his thoughts, and when he looked up he saw a woman who struck him as vaguely familiar standing with one hand on the door frame. She was breathing a bit hard, and her mouth parted slightly in surprise. He didn't have long enough to figure out where he knew her from before she blinked her huge eyes and turned to dash away_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly curious as to how many readers guessed where I was going with the ending. I love flashback endings, but I can definitely see the wisdom of only using them in scenarios where you can finish the book entirely before you begin uploading, and not chapter by chapter as you go like I did here. It was also supposed to be a scene towards the middle, not the end, but as the project grew it got moved to the end of book 1. Then, when I took the entire last arc out I had to change everything around the battle while still trying to make it fit the opening scene. Hopefully it doesn't feel as forced to read as it did to write at times. (This is the only ending like this, don't worry. xD )
> 
> I'm still just in shock over completing the first book. And right around the 110k mark I was aiming for, too(if you don't count the Author's notes)! You guys have all been awesome, and I'm so grateful for everyone who's stuck around to continue reading. I may be trying to write for myself first, but the support really warms my heart and makes it all the more worth it.
> 
> There will be one more update to this book, so I recommend not removing it from your watch list just yet. It will have an epilogue that will tie into a separate Earth/Avengers book which I will be starting sometime after IW comes out if all goes as planned. The Avengers portion will be a sort of 'Book 3' that will run alongside this book and Book 2(Which is still Guardians focused). Then they'll all come together in a 'Book 4' which will be a direct sequel to both.
> 
> Now that this book is complete, I am planning to go through with a fine comb and give it a light 'rehaul.' Mostly updating the writing, smoothing out some of the foreshadowing, and fixing a few smaller details that got lost (Like how Peter drops off his long coat at the tailor's then magically has it again in 'Howl.' It's pretty safe to assume that Gamora retrieved it when she retrieved her sword and other items, but I forgot to acknowledge that any way in-text and only realized weeks later. lol) I'm not planning to change anything even mildly plot-relevant so no one has to go back or re-read anything, and might post a short list of changes on my tumblr or something when I complete it.
> 
> See you in the next book!
> 
> -OMaM


	22. Epilogue: The Things We Lost in the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The future's in our hands and we will never be the same again_
> 
> _These are the things, the things we lost"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **!.!.!Book 2: Luciferous is up and in progress!.!.!**
> 
> [Direct sequel to this book.]
> 
> **!.!.!Book 3: Tenebris is up and in progress!.!.!**
> 
> [Earth & Avengers based book, runs parallel to Books 1 and 2, can be read in any order.]
> 
> .
> 
> _Title is from "Things We Lost in the Fire" by Bastille. Characters belong to Marvel._

**Epilogue: The Things We Lost in the Fire**

**[Meanwhile, on Terra: Early 2015]**

"Hey Peter!"

Peter Parker looked up from his backpack to give Michelle a quick shushing gesture.

"What are you doing?" he whisper-shouted between his teeth, glancing around the empty store as though expecting someone to come bursting forth from one of the other aisles any moment. "You can't be that loud!"

"This place is empty," Michelle said, crossing her arms and giving a tin can in front of her a light kick as she passed, sending it rolling through the rubble and trash scattered across the floor. "No one's around to hear anything."

"You don't know that." Peter quickly zipped up his backpack and hefted it over his shoulder. The cans inside clanked together and dug little bruises into his spine and ribs. The worn straps cut into his shoulders and he shifted the bag around, trying to find a position that was almost tolerable. "This place is a red-zone, we shouldn't even be here."

"Whatever," she huffed, adjusting the bag across her own back. "Those maps are probably as outdated as the rest of this junk. Let's just get out of here. I think it's officially been picked clean. You know, figuratively."

"Sounds good." Peter followed as she lead the way towards the front of the little corner store and pharmacy, picking his way through the glass scattered across the doorway. Most of it had been tracked away or crushed underneath the boots of past looters, but the pieces that remained, dusty and dulled slightly by the passage of time, were still plenty sharp enough to slice through the worn soles of his Convers if he wasn't careful. "Did you find anything good?"

"You might say that," she said, pulling a little paper bag out from her jacket pocket. "Look what I found wedged in a corner between a desk and the wall. I dug it out from under a pile of trash that some mice were using as a nest."

Michelle handed the paper bag over to Peter. It was a sad, crumpled little thing. The edges were all bent, one corner eaten away, probably by the aforementioned mice, and rippled with water stains, but when he unrolled the top and peered inside, the contents made his heart skip with disbelief.

"No way!" he gasped, barely remembering to keep his voice down as he pulled one of several orange bottles out. The pills inside rattled while he rolled it over to read the label. "You found real antibiotics? I can't believe it. Are they still good?"

"I think so," she said, taking the bottle and the bag back and shoving them into her pocket again. "They're past their expiration date on the label, but they're all still sealed, and antibiotics last like, a decade after expiration, right?"

"I think so..." Peter kept his eyes on the surroundings as they walked down the empty street. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and trash in the light autumn breeze, and their voices echoing oddly against the empty streets. "We can check with Mr. Miller when we get back, he'll probably know, but that's a great find."

"I know." Michelle ducked her head, but the smile that tugged at her mouth and the corners of her eyes was enough to make Peter's heart flutter. "I told you it was worth coming here."

_Definitely worth it_ , Peter thought. Michelle almost never smiled anymore.

"I guess," Peter admitted. "but we should still get back before anyone realizes we're not where we said we'd be."

"You worry too much." A fist knocked against his shoulder, so soft he barely felt it, but Peter still pretended to stumble as if from a mighty blow.

"Someone has to," Peter shrugged.

"I mean it." Michelle turned to look at him as she walked and her face was suddenly serious. "You work too hard. You're so thin you could hide behind a lamp post, and if the pools under your eyes get any bigger we're going to have to start calling you Robin."

"Robin?"

"Like the comics, Batman and Robin. I talked to the others. We had a vote. For the record, I voted to start calling you a raccoon and find you a nice box to live in beside the dumpster."

"Why couldn't I live  _in_  the dumpster?"

"Because we're using it."

"I'd rather be Batman."

"Batman would know when to take a break."

"As the bigger comic book nerd here, I strongly disagree."

"Shut up!" Michelle hissed, grabbing his sleeve.

"What? You started it."

"No, shut up. I think I heard something."

Peter froze and immediately began listening for anything out of the ordinary. At first, all he heard was the endless shuffling of dry leaves and decaying trash. Then he heard it, too. A distant hum that made his blood run cold.

"Oh, no," Peter breathed, freezing in his tracks. "Oh, crap. We gotta hide!"

At the end of the street sat an old bank, according to the bold lettering still bolted over the doorway. Peter and Michelle quickly scrambled through the broken windows and fled into the shadows of the interior.

"There! The counter!" Michelle grabbed Peter's sleeve and steered them behind the teller's counter. The thick glass that used to divide the bank workers from their patrons was fractured in several places, like some early rioters had tried to break through. Peter poked his head up behind one of these points, hoping the dirty, distorted glass would hide him from any passing glances. One hand reached for the wooden baseball bat that hung from his bag, slipping it free and twisting it anxiously in his grip.

Michelle was kneeling next to him, the whites of her eyes glinting bright in the light filtering in through the broken windows.

Outside, the humming was growing louder at an alarming speed. Peter held his breath as something huge and silver glided past the window. The alien on top of the scooter twisted its head around as it peered into the passing buildings. Those creepy yellow eyes met his and for a moment Peter could swear even his blood had frozen in fear. Then the eyes were passing on and the scooter rolled out of sight, it's unearthly hum fading now down the street.

"It's gone," Michelle breathed.

"That was way too close." Peter's fingers were still trembling where they gripped onto the counter. "Let's get out of here before it comes back."

-x-

After giving some time for the humming to fade away, Michelle and Peter made a run for the chain-link fence that marked the edge of the red-zone. No words were exchanged until long after they had slipped under the hole Michelle had discovered on her last run and the sight of the small town had been swallowed up by the thin forest on the other side.

The dingy old sedan was right where they'd left it, parked behind some bushes just off the main road. Peter threw his bag through the back window that didn't work anymore and slipped into the driver's seat while Michelle ripped the branches off the hood that they had left there for camouflage.

"We're good," she said as she took her place in the passenger's seat, her bag held on her lap.

Peter turned the key and the engine came to life with a reluctant whine. "You should put on your seatbelt," he said for the thousandth time, but he was too shaken to sit here and have the usual argument with her, so he hit the gas and they tore off down the street anyways.

-x-

Michelle was curled up in her seat, the bag hugged against her stomach and her head leaning against the dusty window, still not wearing her seat belt when they pulled into view of the camp a very long hour later.

"So what's your plan to explain all the stuff we found?" Peter asked, glancing at his bag in the back seat. "There's no way Mr. Miller is going to believe we got all of this from where we were supposed to be going. It's all been picked clean by now."

Mr. Miller had been one of the teachers at Peter's school, and was one of the very few adults in their camp, alongside Mr. Engler, their bus driver who had lost his leg in a crash during the initial blast, and Mrs. Twohey, a history teacher that Peter had only ever known in passing before all of this. She had already been well on her way to retirement before things fell apart. Some retirement.

"It's Thursday, right? Ned's in charge of inventory today. We can sneak in the back way and have him add it in quietly. Mr. Miller never even has to know."

"Wait, it's Thursday?" Peter asked, pulling up to one of the makeshift gates and flickering the headlights in a pattern he would probably have memorized for the rest of his life. "Are you sure?"

"Yep." Michelle dug around in her bag for a moment and pulled out something Peter hadn't seen in so long he nearly did a double take. "Happy birthday idiot," she said, handing over the Hostess Twinkie to a very speechless Peter. "Now stop gaping and hurry up, they're not going to hold the gates open forever."

"Oh!" Peter hit the gas a little to hard and the car lurched gracelessly forward through the open gateway.

"Just park behind the inventory, it'll be easier to sneak in that way," Michelle instructed. "So now that you're fourteen, what are your plans?"

"Oh you know, early retirement, enjoy the golden years. Fourteen's a pretty good age nowadays I hear. Maybe grow a mustache, that's all the rage."

Michelle burst into a laugh and smiled for the second time that day. "A mustache? You? I'm pretty sure I'll grow a mustache before you do."

"Do you... have plans to grow a mustache?" Peter asked through his own grin as he pulled to car to a shuddering halt behind a sturdy cabin. "Are you going to grow a beard to go with it?"

"I might. Why? You jealous?"

"Totally."

Michelle rolled here eyes with a small but definite smile and slipped from the car, shutting the door quietly behind herself. After taking a moment to check the surrounding area, she snuck up to the nearest window. "Ned!" she hissed, tapping on the glass. "Open up!"

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the epilogue took so long. I didn't want to post it until I had the first chapter of Tenebris up so I could use it as an announcement, and because I had some things up in the air that I needed to make real decisions on. This document, Book 1: Astronautical, will now be listed as 'complete' but the story continues in Book 2: Luciferous which is up on my account.
> 
> Tenebris, which I am referring to as Book 3, just because that's the order it was started in, begins on Earth roughly a year and a half before the events on Astronautical and the epilogue here.
> 
> **Tenebris:** [Early-mid 2013]
> 
> **Astronautical & Epilogue:** [Early 2015]
> 
> There will be a direct sequel, a Book 4 (No name yet) which will involve the Avengers and Guardians in a sort of Infinity War mashup.
> 
> See you in the next book!
> 
> -OMaM


End file.
